


Girl There Ain't No I In Team (But You Know There Is A Me)

by eternaleponine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa Week 2020, F/F, Football | Soccer, Pre-game rituals, Roommates, Sports, Superstition, Taking one for the team
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23013190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaleponine/pseuds/eternaleponine
Summary: Every athlete has their own superstitions and pre-game rituals, and Lexa is no exception.  She thinks no one knows about her night-before-the-game FaceTime hook-ups with her girlfriend to help her relax and sleep... but it's actually Polis State Women's Soccer's Best Worst-Kept Secret.Things get complicated when she and Costia break up, and Lexa's playing suffers.  When they end up hotel roommates at an away game, Clarke decides to take one for the team and lend a helping hand, not so metaphorically speaking.  It doesn'tmeananything... right?
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa
Comments: 584
Kudos: 1298
Collections: Clexaweek2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am not a soccer/football player. Everything I know about the sport I learned from the World Cup and the internet. All mistakes are my own - chalk them up to artistic license?

"Are you _trying_ to get yourself subbed out?" Clarke demanded, her face so close to Lexa's flecks of spit landed on her skin. There was a lull in play while one of the opposing players got checked out by the medical staff, which gave them a minute to breathe and regroup, and Clarke had decided the best use of that time was to yell at Lexa.

"No!" Lexa said, trying to return fire, but it was as half-hearted as her passes had been.

"Then get your head in the damn game!" 

They locked eyes for a second longer, then Clarke turned and went to grab some water before play resumed. Lexa sucked in a breath. She should probably follow her, but she couldn't face Clarke, or any of the rest of team, again. 

They had been tied at the half. Twenty minutes in and the score still hadn't budged, and Lexa knew it was her fault. She was playing like shit and everyone was paying for it. 

_Get your head in the damn game._

The whistle blew, and Lexa let the shrill sound blast away every thought that wasn't relevant to the game. She focused on the moment-by-moment shifts as they moved down the field, making sure to keep her head up, her eyes and ears open, and when necessary, her voice heard. She stripped the ball from the other team and located Clarke, who put on a burst of speed to shake off her defenders. This time, the pass went exactly where she wanted it to, and Clarke trapped it and took off, Lexa hot on her heels. 

Lexa watched the ball as it left Clarke's feet and was picked up by one of their forwards, and her heart clenched as it soared up, up, up... and in! A quick glance at the refs on the sidelines showed no off-side flag, and she let out a whoop. Now all they had to do was keep the other team from scoring and they had it. 

Which proved to be easier said than done, but also easier than the first half when Lexa had relied far too heavily on their defenders to pick up the slack she couldn't seem to stop leaving. The player who scored the other team's goal had gotten through on her side, and she'd felt McIntyre's eyes boring into her back for a long time afterward. 

When the final whistle blew, Lexa breathed out a huge sigh of relief. She never would have forgiven herself if her sloppy playing had cost them a game... and she suspected there were several others who would have been right there with her. 

The mood in the locker room was celebratory but subdued. This game should have been easy, but instead they'd barely managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat... or at least a draw. It wouldn't have been the end of the world; it was still early in the season and they had plenty of time to make up for it. But it would have made the long bus ride home feel even longer. 

Lexa showered quickly, slipping into sweats and braiding her hair back out of her face. She was the first one back on the bus, snagging a window seat halfway back, where she wouldn't be subject to their coaches rehashing the game in the front or whatever hijinks those who were less stressed about the outcome of the game got up to in the back.

Anya slid into the seat behind her and took Lexa's head in her hands like it was a goal that needed preventing. She tipped Lexa's head back so they were eye-to-eye. "Don't beat yourself up," she said. "We all have off days." 

Lexa nodded, or tried to, and Anya let her go with a bop of the fist to her skull and dropped into her seat. Raven took the seat next to her and pulled out an iPad, and they went back to whatever they'd been watching on the trip out. 

No one took the seat next to Lexa. 

She put on her headphones and told herself she didn't care. She wouldn't want to talk to her either. And it wasn't like she wanted to talk, or _could_ talk, about what was bothering her. On a team where everyone knew everyone's business, there was one secret she'd managed to keep, and she planned to – no, she _had_ to – keep it that way. Not just for herself. For Costia. For the team. 

She turned up the volume on her phone, but it made no difference. There was no way to drown out conversation when it was happening in your own head, an instant replay on infinite loop.

* * *

"Hey Cos."

"Hey Lex. How's it going?"

"Okay." _But not really. The truth is I miss you. I miss us. Even though I know it wasn't working. Even though I'm the one who said it first. I still miss you._

"I miss you too," Costia said, in that amused, affectionate tone that reminded Lexa that they were still friends, that Costia was still there, even if she was hundreds of miles away, that they were better off as friends, really... except when they were maybe just a little bit more than friends...

"Sorry to call so late," Lexa said. 

"It's not as late here," Costia pointed out.

"Oh. Right," Lexa said. "Time zones." 

"Time zones," Costia agreed. 

"Are you busy, or...?" Lexa let the question trail off, waiting for Costia to fill in the blank. All the blanks.

There was a pause, and then Costia sighed, and a little of the fondness was gone from her voice. "Lexa... we can't keep doing this."

"You say that every time," Lexa said, trying for a teasing tone but maybe missing the mark just a little.

"I know. But this time I mean it."

She'd said that before, too... except she'd been laughing that time, and this time she definitely wasn't, and Lexa should let it go. She knew she should let it go. But she needed this, needed her, just this one more time...

"Cos—"

"Lexa. I'm serious. No."

Of all the times for her to dig in her heels and get stubborn, she had to pick tonight. "I have a game!" 

"And I have a girlfriend!"

_Oh._

The words landed like a punch to the gut. It had been bound to happen eventually, but Lexa hadn't expected that eventually would be _now_. Not before she'd had a chance to work out her own shit and move on. But no meant no, and this was absolutely, 100% no. It was over. They were done.

"Oh. Shit. I'm sorry. Not that you have a girlfriend. That's great. For you. I'm happy. I'm just..." She could feel her cheeks burning, and she scrubbed at her eyes with the heel of her hand, digging in to hold back the prickling damp. "I'm gonna go." She fumbled her phone away from her ear, but not fast enough.

"Lexa wait!"

Lexa waited, holding her breath, not sure why or what she was going to hear, or whether hope or dread would win the battle being waged in her chest. She waited a second, and then another, and what felt like a hundred more before Costia spoke again. 

"I'll talk to you tomorrow. You can tell me how the game went." It was a statement, like it was that simple. Like they could talk like they always did and none of this would matter. But the silence was a physical presence between them, and when Lexa didn't answer (because it hadn't been a question) she finally amended, "If you want. I understand if—"

"I'll tell you," Lexa said, not wanting her to feel guilty when she had nothing to be sorry for. She hadn't created this mess. She forced herself to smile, pushing false cheer into her voice, and Costia would see – hear – right through it, but at least she was trying, damn it! "You're not getting out of the soccer wi—life that easy."

"I wouldn't want to," Costia said, sounding relieved, or maybe she was just a better actor than Lexa. "Have a good night. Be great tomorrow." 

Lexa didn't answer – couldn't, because the lump in her throat blocked any words from making their way to her lips. 

Because now it was real. The path they'd been on since they'd chosen colleges hours and states apart had reached a crossroads, and Lexa was forced to face the fact that their lives were truly diverging, and there might come a day when her best friend wasn't her best friend anymore.

She didn't sleep well that night.

* * *

Clarke watched Lexa out of the corner of her eye, using the reflection in the window to see her face, which was turned away. She looked tired. No, exhausted. Drained, physically and mentally, and every once in a while Clarke though she heard her sniff like she was trying to hold back tears.

A splinter of guilt worked its way under her skin. Maybe she'd been unfair to Lexa. They all had off days; Lexa wasn't an exception. For all her skill on the field – and it was considerable – she was still only human. 

_Maybe she couldn't get her girlfriend on the phone last night,_ Clarke thought. _Maybe that's why she's dragging._ She pressed her lips together to keep from smirking, not wanting anyone to ask what was so funny.

It was Polis State Women's Soccer's worst kept secret: Lexa and her girlfriend and their telephone rendezvous the night before a game.

Clarke had first learned about it only a few weeks into being a member of the team, when an exhibition game had taken them far enough from home – well, campus, it didn't feel like home ( _yet_ , she hoped) – that their coach and the rest of the staff had deemed it necessary to get a hotel so they weren't trying to sleep cramped on a bus. There were an odd number of players, and none of the staff wanted to share a room with them (or maybe it was the other way around), but rather than forcing two players to share a bed, one of them got a room to themselves.

"How do you decide?" Clarke asked. "Does it go to the captain, or do you draw straws, or—"

"Lexa," several girls answered in unison. "Lexa gets it."

Clarke frowned. "Why?" she asked. Sure, she was one of the star players, and co-captain, but why did she automatically warrant the luxury of not having to share with anyone? "Does she snore or something?"

Raven laughed. "No, that's Anya," she said. 

"Like a Mack truck grinding its gears," Anya declared proudly. She looked around, then leaned in. "I'll tell you, but you have to swear to never repeat it. Everyone on the team knows, but Lexa doesn't know we know, and we want to keep it that way." 

Clarke fought the urge to squirm. She wasn't a big fan of secrets... although apparently the secret was that it wasn't a secret. "Okay," she said. "I swear."

Anya leaned in even closer, and Clarke found herself echoing the movement. "So Lexa has a girlfriend," she said, "who goes to a different school. In like... Chicago or somewhere. Point being, not close. So they don't get to see each other often. Which can be... trying, as I'm sure you can imagine." 

Clarke snorted. She didn't have any experience with long distance relationships... hell, she didn't have much experience with short distance relationships, if she was being honest. Not ones that lasted, anyway. "Okay..."

"And Lexa sometimes gets pretty worked up the night before a game," Anya continued. "Has a hard time sleeping. And she doesn't want to take anything that might make her draggy the next day, obviously. Luckily, Mother Nature supplied us all with her own sleep aid: endorphins." She paused, raising an eyebrow. "I shared a room with her once," she said. "Only once. In fairness, she thought I was asleep. Unfortunately, I wasn't. Because there are some things you just can't unhear. You follow?"

Clarke could feel her cheeks heating up, just a little. Yes, she followed. 

"That's why she gets her own room. It's best for everyone." 

"Got it," Clarke said. "I take it she doesn't believe in the whole 'no sex before a game' thing."

"There's actually no scientific evidence to support that," Raven said. "All of the studies they've done say it has no impact. Maybe psychologically..."

"Psychology is a science," Clarke pointed out.

"That's debatable," Raven sniffed.

"Don't be a snob," Clarke teased. 

" _Anyway,_ " Anya interrrupted. "Best find yourself a buddy, kid, before all the good ones are taken." 

Clarke had to assume that the same thing happened the night before games where they weren't in a hotel, and Lexa's roommate just knew to not be in the room... or maybe had earplugs or the ability to sleep through anything. Whatever the case, it seemed like maybe something had gone awry the night before. 

When they stopped at a rest area for dinner, Clarke slipped into the convenience store for some snacks. Back on the bus, it was quiet as they all chowed down, the only sounds the crinkling of wrappers and rustle of bags, the rattle of ice and slurping of straws as they reached the bottom of the sodas they probably weren't supposed to be drinking. Lexa only picked at her food, finally stuffing half of her sub back into the bag.

Clarke got up and crossed the aisle, plunking down in the empty seat next to Lexa. "Hey," she said. 

Lexa looked over at her and slid her headphones off her ears. Clarke could hear the tinny sound of music through them, but Lexa didn't make any move to turn it off. "Hey."

"I'm sorry about earlier," Clarke said. "I shouldn't have gotten in your face like that."

"Don't be," Lexa said. "I was a mess out there, and I needed a kick in the ass."

"We all have bad days," Clarke said. "Next game will be better." She extended an olive branch in the form of a bag of pretzels. "Peace?"

* * *

Lexa choked on a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. Her eyes pricked with tears, and she blinked hard to keep them from spilling. It was ridiculous to get emotional over a bag of pretzels and she knew it. She also knew how little sleep she'd gotten, and how she couldn't shake the feeling that her carefully constructed world was slipping out of her control, and it wasn't really about the pretzels anyway. It was about Clarke, and the fact that she'd paid enough attention to Lexa off the field to know that pretzels were her favorite post-game snack. Crunchy and salty and better for you than French fries (although she could murder some fries right now, and a chocolate milk shake, and okay, maybe there was a hormonal element to all this drama...). If they'd contained protein, they really would be a perfect recovery food. 

"Peace," she said, taking the bag, her fingers brushing against Clarke's and lingering maybe just a second longer than they needed to. For a disconcerting moment, it felt like Clarke was looking _through_ her, straight into her skull or maybe her soul, and seeing everything she tried to hide, but then Clarke blinked and smiled and pulled away. 

"What are you listening to?" Clarke asked, nodding toward her headphones where music still blared. 

"Oh," Lexa said. "Some Spotify radio station. Just trying to drown everything out." But it was actually fairly quiet, with most people wearing headphones, and a few passed out, curled up on a set of seats with their team jackets as blankets. 

"You can't drown out what's in your own head," Clarke said, and Lexa actually flinched, because wasn't that _exactly_ what she'd been thinking earlier? "Sorry," Clarke said quickly, seeing her reaction. "I'm not trying to rub salt in the wounds or anything." She looked at the pretzels Lexa still clutched. "All appearances aside."

Lexa couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up at that. "I didn't think you were," she said. "It just felt for a second like you might be a mind-reader." 

"Don't I wish," Clarke said. "It would make playing a lot easier."

"Would it?" Lexa wondered. "I guess if you could choose whose thoughts you were listening to, maybe. Your own team's channel." 

Clarke smiled. "Something like that. We don't do too bad, though, do we?" she asked, leaning back in the previously empty seat and nudging Lexa with her elbow. 

"No," Lexa said, smiling back at her, a few of the knots inside of her loosening. "We don't." 

When Clarke had showed up for training at the beginning of the semester, Lexa hadn't known what to expect. It came with the territory on a college team; there was always players graduating and new players arriving. With Clarke it had been different, though, or at least felt different. She was a transfer, not a freshman, with experience playing at the college level, but not with them. Knowing that Clarke would likely be filling the gap at left center mid – Lexa's position but on the other side – Lexa had had more than the usual nerves that came with adjusting to a new player. But they'd found their groove quickly, and by the end of the first week of training, it felt like they'd been playing together for years, not days. There was plenty of communication involved, but Lexa sometimes found herself preparing to call out to Clarke, only to find that she was already in position, like she'd known what Lexa was going to say before she said it. 

Which was part of why her performance today had felt so much worse than an 'off' day (and Anya and Clarke were both right – everyone had them) usually did. She'd felt completely disconnected from Clarke, and everyone else on the field, and along with the guilt that came from letting the team down, there was also the niggling fear that she wouldn't get that feeling of connection back. 

"Hey," Clarke said, nudging her again, this time with her knee. "I know how to make you feel better." 

Lexa raised an eyebrow. "Other than the pretzels?"

"Other than the pretzels," Clarke said. "Which you don't have to share, by the way, even though the bag says 'Sharing Size'. But, y'know, you _could_ , if you wanted to." She grinned. "I'll be right back." She darted over to her own seat and came back with a tablet and a jack that allowed two sets of headphones to be plugged in. She opened up the Netflix app and brought up some baking show called 'Nailed It'. 

Lexa tore open the bag of pretzels and set it between them, and a few minutes into the episode, she had to admit that Clarke was right. However bad a day she might be having, these poor bakers who were obviously in over their heads were having a worse one... but they seemed to be having a good time doing it, and that was what mattered, wasn't it? Sometimes Lexa needed to remind herself that at the end of the day, even if she wanted soccer to be her future, it _was_ just a game. 

The pretzels disappeared more quickly than Lexa would have liked, even though she knew Clarke hadn't eaten that many of them. She crumpled up the bag and stuffed it into her backpack to deal with later, and realized she had no idea what to do with her hands now. She started to cross her arms, but that awkward and kind of uncomfortable. She tucked them between her thighs, but then worried how that might look to Clarke and put them in her lap, balled into fists, but then would Clarke think she was angry? She was about to stuff them in her pockets when Clarke reached out and took one, lacing their fingers together and anchoring it firmly between them, her shoulder pressed into Lexa's as they shared the single screen. 

Lexa sneaked a glance at Clarke, who didn't look away from the shenanigans on screen, but who seemed to sense Lexa's gaze because she squeezed her hand. Lexa squeezed back and let out a slow breath that it felt like she'd been holding all day. 

She would be okay. Even without Costia, she would be okay. She had to be, because there was no way she was letting Clarke (or anyone else) down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so they don't get to the being roommates part in this chapter, but I swear it's coming! I have this thing where I like chapters to be roughly equal in length, and there was no way I was setting myself up to have to keep up with 8000 word chapters, so... here we are. Next time, I promise!


	2. Chapter 2

Their next game was a home game. The opposing team was a tougher one than their last game, but practices had been going well, so Clarke was optimistic. Maybe people would even come out to support them, considering they'd made it to the Conference championships the last four years running, and Nationals the last two. They hadn't won any of them, but they'd come close, with a second place Conference finish the year before, and third at Nationals. 

_This year is our year,_ Clarke thought, even though it felt a little... disingenuous? to include herself, since she hadn't been part of the team for long, hadn't played any part in the build-up. But she was part of the team now, part of the 'we', the 'us', the 'our', and she worked her ass off to prove that she deserved it. 

She looked around the locker room, watching all of the little quirks and rituals people had to get them in game-mode. She didn't think she had any of her own... until she unstrapped her father's watch from her wrist. It didn't even work, so she didn't normally wear it... but somehow on game days she always found herself taking it off without ever having made the conscious decision to put it on. So yeah, okay, maybe she did have her own superstitions. She pressed her lips to its face and tucked it in her locker. 

She caught Lexa's eye, and fought back a frown at the paleness of her cheeks and the dark circles under her eyes, and the way she fidgeted with the armband surrounding her right bicep. "You ready for this?" she asked. 

Lexa nodded, but there was a flicker of doubt in her eyes, and Clarke knew – or assumed, anyway – that she was thinking about their last game, and how close they'd come to losing, replaying all of her own mistakes in her head. 

Clarke slid onto the bench next to her. "Don't," she said. "Don't do it. Don't go there."

Lexa pursed her lips, lines forming between her brows like she was irritated by the accusation... but then they smoothed out and she sighed. "I know. It's just..." She shrugged. "It's hard."

"You're harder," Clarke said, slipping her hand around Lexa's and squeezing. And there was nothing hard about it; her skin was soft where it pressed against Clarke's. Clarke told herself the way her stomach dropped when Lexa looked down at their linked hands, then back up at her, was just nerves.

Lexa straightened her back and squared her shoulders. "Damn right I am," she said, an ember of her usual fire kindling in her eyes. 

"That's what I'm talking about," Clarke said. "You got this."

" _We_ got this," Lexa answered. "Luna!"

Luna came over in her boots and shorts and a sports bra – somehow she was always the last one dressed, and the first one undressed – and slid her arm around Lexa's shoulders. "O Captain, My Captain," she said. 

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Don't start," she said, checking her with her hip. Clarke knew they went way back – they'd played together on and off since they were kids, whenever they were in the same country. They'd met when Lexa's military father was stationed in Germany and had kept in touch after, and Luna had spent a year as an exchange student at Lexa's high school before coming to the US for college on a soccer scholarship. "It's only because Anya messed up her wrist."

"It doesn't matter why," Luna said. "It matters that you're the best woman for the job." 

"Let's ho—" Lexa started, but stopped when Clarke pinched her side. "Okay, rude," she said, laughing. "Where's Roma?" 

Roma played on Clarke's left, the fourth member of their usual starting mid-line. Clarke spotted her in front of the sinks, checking to make sure she didn't have a hair out of place and her headband was _just so_... as if her careful coif would last beyond the first few minutes of play. "Roma!"

She looked over, startled, and at least had the good grace to look sheepish as she came over. "You can't blame a girl for wanting to look good!" she said, slinging one arm around Clarke and the other around Luna, completing the circle. "When you look good, you feel good, and when you feel good, you play good."

"Well," Clarke corrected without thinking. "You play well."

"Okay, Professor," Roma teased. 

"Tick tock," Luna added, freeing her arms from the huddle to tap her wrist before draping them back around her teammates. 

"Fine," Clarke groaned. "You've made your point. We all have our habits." She thought she saw Lexa's face twitch out of the corner of her eye, but when she looked over at her, her expression was more-or-less neutral, her jaw set and her eyes bright and determined. 

"We all know last game didn't go as well as it should have," Lexa said. "We're only as strong as our weakest link, and last time that was me. I admit it, and I own it. But we've stepped up our game in practice, and we know what we're capable of. So today, none of us is the weakest link. Today, we go out there and show them what we've got." 

Heads bobbed in agreement, and they tightened their arms around each other, knotted together as a single unit for several breaths before they broke apart, four separate players with a single purpose. They wouldn't know until they hit the field whether the synchronicity they felt right now would hold, but Clarke refused to allow doubt to creep in. They finished getting ready and came together again to head out to the field.

They moved through warm-ups with ease, everything coming together like it had in practice over the last few days, and Clarke's hope soared. As they prepared to take their places, Clarke clapped a hand to Lexa's back as she jogged past. Lexa flashed her a smile and a thumbs up, as they took their positions side-by-side. 

It was a struggle from the start. Their opponents came out strong, but after Polis got the ball up the field and into the goal in the first ten minutes, they were out for blood. And they got it: first from McIntyre's knee when she tried to block a drive toward the goal and ended up going down hard, and then from Monroe's face when she and the girl defending her knocked heads on a challenge for a header. The opposing player had popped right back up, but Monroe had stayed down, blood streaking down her face from a gash to her forehead. Head wounds always bled like crazy; Clarke hoped it wasn't serious.

Clarke watched Lexa check in with the rest of the team while the medics were called onto the field, offering encouragement here and trying to calm frayed nerves there. When she finally got to Clarke, she offered a tired smile. "You all right?" she asked. 

Clarke nodded. "You?"

Lexa rolled her eyes, and they both laughed, bumping shoulders as they grabbed their water bottles, taking advantage of the delay to rehydrate. The medics finally came off the field with Monroe between them, and Clarke groaned. If there was a game where they needed one of their best forwards on the field, it was this one, but if there was any possibility of concussion, they weren't going to take any chances.

The whistle blew, and play resumed, and a sub was sent in to replace Monroe. Clarke told herself everything would be fine. Everyone on the team was a solid player... but some were better at handling this kind of pressure than others. 

And there was _a lot_ of pressure. The back and forth was relentless, and Clarke found herself wishing she'd maybe tacked on a few extra miles to her training runs... or maybe the opposite. Maybe she'd run too much, and that's why her legs felt like they were on fire now. Whatever the cause, she was grateful when the whistle blew, signaling the half. 

She felt Lexa's hand on the small of her back as they came off the field, and she looked over and flashed a smile that was probably more of a grimace. Lexa made a face that said she understood. "You think it's going to get better?" Clarke asked as they flopped onto benches in the locker room.

Lexa shook her head. "I think it's going to get worse."

"You think we can take it?"

Lexa didn't get a chance to answer, because Coach Indra called for their attention, going over the game so far – the things they'd done well, and areas of opportunity, and outlined their strategy for the second half. "You need to be aggressive out there," she said. "We're best when we're on the attack. Keep the game on their side. Keep them on their heels."

"Would be easier if we weren't spending so much time on our asses," someone grumbled, loud enough to garner a few chuckles – mostly from girls who were holding bags of ice to various body parts. 

"I know," Coach Indra said. "They're playing a rough game. You just need to roll with it."

"Occasionally literally," Clarke quipped under her breath, and saw Lexa bite her lip to hold back a smile.

"Don't let them in your heads. Don't let them get under your skin."

"Or through it," Clarke whispered, and Lexa smacked her in the leg, hard enough that there was an audible crack.

Coach fixed them with a steely look. "Do I need to separate you two?" she asked. 

"No ma'am," they said. "Sorry, Coach."

She waited another second, then continued. "You're doing great out there. It may not feel like it in the moment, but you really are. We're up by one. All we need to do is maintain. If we can increase the lead, great, but our main focus should be keeping them from equalizing. Keep in mind those opportunities to tighten up I went over, but otherwise, just keep doing what you're doing, and we've got this."

_We don't got this,_ Clarke thought as she picked herself up off the grass, feeling like she had a dent in the shape of one of their opponent's elbows in her ribs. She rubbed her side and kept moving; a foul hadn't been called and she wasn't injured so there wasn't anything else she could do. She didn't know what the other coach had said in the locker room, but it seemed like it might have been something along the lines of, 'If you can't get to the ball, just aim for the shins.' 

"Did someone put a 'Kick Me' sign on my back when I wasn't looking?" Lexa asked as she brushed herself off for the third time in what felt like as many minutes. 

"Maybe it's your number," Clarke suggested. "Lucky 13." 

Lexa snorted, but five minutes later she was down again, tripped by a late tackle. This time, she didn't get up. Clarke rushed over to her as soon as the whistle blew, offering a hand. "You okay?"

"Probably," Lexa said, pointing and flexing her toe. "It's gonna leave a mark." The medics arrived again and checked the ankle before getting Lexa up on her feet. She took a step, bounced a few times, and nodded that she was okay to keep playing. 

Clarke soon lost track of how many fouls were called... and how many weren't. It was getting to all of them, but Clarke could see Lexa watching Octavia, their freshman center forward who could be as much of a liability as an asset when things weren't going her way, ready to intervene if she got it into her head to challenge the ref, or anyone else. Octavia tended to act first and think later and was already on her third yellow card of the season, which was more than Clarke had received in her entire soccer career to date.

It turned out her vigilance was warranted, when another clash resulted in a foul being called... but on Polis, not their opponent. The call was unfair, at least from where Clarke was standing, and Lexa might have tried to argue it, but she was too busy dragging Octavia back from launching herself at the official. Clarke jogged over in case she needed backup. 

"Sometimes you have to concede the battle to win the war," Lexa said, her tone a lot calmer than Clarke's would have been. 

"Concede the—I'm not conceding anything!" Octavia snapped. "You want me to just let them win?"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it," Lexa told her. "You need to let it go."

Octavia shook Lexa off. "Fuck you," she snarled, but at least she went in the opposite direction of any direct conflict that might land her in trouble. 

Or so Clarke thought. Not a minute later, Octavia made a mad dash for the ball, trying to steal it with a wild kick that ended in a tangle of limbs, followed by Octavia's fourth yellow card... and the ref awarding the other team a penalty kick. " _Fuck_ ," she groaned, and hoped against hope that somehow they would miss, or that Raven would save it, or—

" _Fuck!_ " she shouted as the ball was neatly tucked into the top right corner. Raven had read the player wrong, or just been psyched out, because she'd gone left, and never stood a chance. 

The other team let out a roar of triumph, leaping on the girl who'd scored the goal that tied the game. Clarke knew they would be doing the same if the roles were reversed, but it didn't make it feel any less like salt being rubbed into their wounds.

When the celebration died down, Clarke realized that Octavia was jogging off the field, looking like she was ready to tear someone's throat out with her teeth as another player took her place. Maybe Coach thought fresh legs might help them win back the lead. But Clarke watched helplessly as the time dwindled and, heartened by the equalizing goal, the other team kept from ever getting close enough to the goal to get in a shot. 

The only consolation, and it was cold comfort, was that Polis kept them from scoring again, too, so when the final whistle blew, it was with a tied score. Their first draw of the season. Their first non-win of the season, and when they lined up to slap hands with the other team, the obligatory 'good game' was barely mumbled as they slunk off to lick their wounds.

* * *

Lexa collapsed onto a bench in the locker room, pulling her injured ankle up onto the opposite knee. She slipped off her cleat but hesitated to peel down her sock and look. If she didn't look, there wouldn't be anything to make this bad day worse. A draw wasn't a loss, but it wasn't a win, either. And she'd gotten used to winning. She knew she should be going around, patting backs and bolstering spirits, but she was tired, and her ankle hurt, and—

A shadow fell across her lap, and she looked up, expecting one of the training staff, or maybe Coach coming to check on her, but no. It was Octavia Blake, and if looks could kill, Lexa would be dead. 

"What the hell was _that_?" Octavia growled. "I don't wanna listen to your Yoda crap and you get me taken out of the damn _game_?"

It took Lexa a second to even process what Octavia was saying, that's how little sense it made. "I didn't get you taken out of the game," she said. "You did that to yourself."

"Like hell I did!" Octavia said. "You get up in my face, trying to tell me about how I need to just let it go when we're getting our asses kicked, and when I call you on your bullshit, three minutes later I'm getting subbed out. You're gonna tell me that's just a coincidence? I don't fucking answer to you, and you hate that, so now you're trying to sabotage the team to get back at me?"

Lexa raised an eyebrow. Was this girl for real? Clearly she was, because she wasn't budging from where she'd planted herself in front of Lexa, clearly expecting an answer... or maybe a fight. Lexa suppressed a sigh and slowly stood up. "Are you finished?" she asked. 

Octavia opened her mouth, then seemed to realize that the entire locker room had gone silent, and all eyes were on them, and shut it again. 

"Good," Lexa said. "One. Coach made the decision to sub you out, not me. I don't know if you think we have some kind of telepathic connection or system of secret signals, but I assure you, we do not. That being said, I don't disagree with her decision. You had just received your fourth yellow card. One more, and you're required to sit out a game. If it was me, I might consider pre-emptively benching you for a few games, just to make sure you don't get yourself in trouble again and have to miss out on a game where we really need you. Which brings us to point number two: you are not irreplaceable. _No one_ on this team is irreplaceable. I know you came from some little school in the middle of nowhere and you're used to carrying your team. You think you can get away with murder because you always have, because your team couldn't afford to lose you. Big fish, small pond, etc. That's no longer the case. You're a good player, Octavia. I won't deny that. You have the potential to be a great one. But not if you don't get to play. And right now, you're not making a strong case for why you should get to go back on the field."

"I scored _both_ goals today!" Octavia said.

"And cost us one," Lexa countered. "If you'd managed to hold your temper, we would have won. Instead, we ended with a tie. Which isn't a loss, but I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one thinking that it sure as hell feels like one." When Octavia didn't have an answer for that, Lexa continued. "Three – a team is made of players. One player does not make a team, but it can do a whole lot toward unmaking one. Are we all always going to get along? No, of course not. But if you want to be part of this team, you need to put your ego – and your anger – aside, and _be_ part of this team. The choice is yours."

She turned her back to Octavia. Maybe Octavia would read it as an insult. Maybe she would even attack Lexa. It was a risk, but a calculated one. If Octavia had any sense at all, she would walk away. 

"Let me see," Clarke said softly when Lexa sat back down. "I'll get you some ice." She darted off, and Lexa finally peeled off her sock. She grimaced at the vivid purple bruise on the side of her ankle, which had darker divots from the other girl's spikes.

Clarke came back with a bag of ice, and her expression echoed Lexa's when she saw it. "Ouch." 

"Yeah." Lexa smiled in thanks and put the ice on her ankle, wincing now with cold rather than – or really in addition to – pain. 

"At least we have tomorrow off," Clarke said. "Time to recover." 

Lexa nodded. "Assuming I don't spend it picking up the pieces if Hurricane Blake decides to make landfall." She didn't _think_ Octavia would trash their room just because Lexa had called her out, but she'd also thought Octavia cared more about winning than vengeance, and obviously she'd been wrong about that, so did she really know her at all? 

Clarke cocked her head, a question in her eyes that didn't make it to her lips.

"She's my roommate," Lexa said. "It was supposed to be Luna, but her paperwork got screwed up and by the time it got sorted out, they'd already put someone in my room with me." 

"Shit," Clarke said. "That's..."

"She spends most of her time with her boyfriend anyway," Lexa said. "She's the exception to the 'no sex before a game rule'. I always hope maybe it will burn away a little of her excess energy." She looked at Clarke, who had a strange look on her face that was quickly covered up with a smile. 

"How's that working out for you?" Clarke asked.

Lexa laughed. "So far? Not awesome."

"Well if you do need to escape, you can always come to my room," Clarke said. "I'm with Maya, who's so quiet sometimes I forget she's there." 

Lexa ignored the fluttering in her stomach at the suggestion. "Thanks," she said. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

"It's bullshit, is what it is," Monroe grumbled, her backpack hitting the floor with a thump. "Who the hell pissed in his Cheerios?"

"Who?" Clarke asked, looking up from the anatomy diagram she was supposed to be studying, but the ass-bone might as well be connected to the elbow for all she'd retained of it. She blamed Lexa, who had spent several hours last night in Clarke's room, watching movies and avoiding Octavia. (Who hadn't trashed their room, like Lexa had feared, or peed in Lexa's sneakers like an angry cat, but there was only so much malevolence one could take.) Clarke had stayed up later than she meant to, and now she was tired... and she couldn't quite shake the memory of Lexa pressed against her side, from shoulder to hip to ankle, as they squeezed themselves onto the width of a twin bed. 

"Professor Titus," Monroe said, and everyone groaned. Half of the team was scattered on various couches, beanbags, and patches of the floor in the common room of their dorm, theoretically working on homework but mostly snacking and chatting and throwing things at each other when disagreements arose over, well, just about anything.

"Who's Professor Titus?" Clarke asked. 

"Someone you had the good fortune to miss," Raven said, "since you took your history gen ed at your old school."

"He hates athletes," Harper added. "Doesn't matter what sport. Doesn't matter how good or bad a student you are. If you play a sport that requires you to miss class, ever, you're on his shit list automatically."

"And he's such a fucking Luddite, he won't accept papers electronically," Monroe added. "If he could get away with it, he would probably prefer that we wrote our papers on parchment with quills."

"Then he could mark us off on our penmanship," Harper snickered.

"Or for being half an inch short," Raven quipped.

"I _did_ get marked off because my top and bottom margins were an inch and a quarter instead of an inch," Harper said. "Excuse me for not checking the defaults!"

"He actually pulled the ruler out of his ass to measure?" Anya asked, and they all laughed. 

"Don't worry," Raven said, "I'm sure he put it right back."

"We have a paper due on Friday that's worth a third of our grade, but we'll be traveling Friday, so I won't be here to turn it in. When I asked him about it, he said I would just have to turn it in before I left," Monroe complained. 

"Won't he make an exception?" Clarke asked. "It seems like a reasonable accommodation."

Luna laughed. "'Reasonable' and 'Titus' don't belong in the same sentence. Ever."

"I didn't have a problem with him," Lexa said mildly, pushing her glasses up to the bridge of her nose with one long finger, and Clarke swallowed, her mouth gone suddenly dry. She picked her way through the maze of books and bags and bodies and sat down next to Clarke. 

"Can you ask him to give me an extension then?" Monroe asked. "I just need a day. Maybe two. No more than a week."

Lexa snorted. "Have you even started the thing?" 

"Yes!" Monroe said. She pulled her laptop out of her bag and flipped it open, tapping on a few keys before spinning it around to show Lexa. "See?!"

Lexa reached to scroll down, but Monroe yanked the laptop back. "It's on the title page," Lexa said. "I was looking to see how much you'd written."

"You only asked if I'd started it," Monroe said. "Which I have."

Lexa smacked her forehead into her palm. "That doesn't count," she said. "How many pages is it supposed to be?"

"Five to seven," Monroe grumbled. 

"Show me three, and I'll see about convincing him to accept the paper by email so you at least get the same amount of time as everyone else," Lexa said. 

"Seriously?" Monroe asked. "I was mostly joking."

"Seriously," Lexa said. "I'm the one athlete on this campus he doesn't hate. I might as well use my powers for good. But I'm not letting you burn that goodwill." 

"Three pages," Monroe said. "I'm on it." And she moved off to a corner of the room, put on a set of headphones to drown out everyone else, and got typing.

"You think it'll work?" Clarke asked Lexa. 

Lexa shrugged. "It's worth a shot, right?"

In the end, Monroe got her exception. No one knew how Lexa had convinced Professor Titus, but many theorized that there was blackmail involved. Friday found them at the airport, with Monroe cursing the shitty wifi as she typed out the last of her sources on her works cited page. "Done!" she announced, throwing her arms in the air like she'd just scored a goal when she finally clicked send.

"And not a second too soon," Lexa said, as the gate agent announced that they would begin boarding with anyone who needed a little extra time or assistance. 

"Which is none of you," Coach Indra said sternly. "You may sometimes act like toddlers, but you are grown adults and can wait your turn." 

Clarke wondered if Coach regretted her decision as they waited... and waited... and waited for their zone to be called. The budget had allowed for the cost of a flight to this game and one other, where the length of time it would have taken to drive and the cost of the gas to do so made flying the smarter choice, but they were definitely in the cheap seats. Coach had already insisted that they check as much of their luggage as possible, knowing that by the time it got to them they would probably be gate checking bags anyway. Finally, they made their way through the airbridge or whatever they called it to the plane... and then waited some more for the aisle to clear enough for them to get to their seats. 

Which immediately devolved into chaos as everyone wanted a window or aisle seat; no one wanted to be stuck in the middle. Their tickets had seat assignments, but they had been assigned at random by the airline, and if even a quarter of them ended up in the seat that matched their boarding pass, it would be a miracle. 

"I'll take the middle," Lexa said. "Window or aisle?" she asked Clarke.

"Doesn't matter to me," Clarke said. 

"Can I have the window?" Luna asked. 

"Sure," Clarke said, and they let her past to slide into the row, followed by Lexa, and then Clarke. She looked at the three of them lined up and laughed, because without thinking about it, they'd arranged themselves just like they would be on the field. The other two looked at her, then at themselves, and Lexa rolled her eyes. 

"And they say that muscle memory is a myth," she said.

"It's actually knowledge that you access mostly subconsciously," Raven said, her head popping up from the row in front of them. "So that? Is pretty much exactly what they mean by muscle memory. Doing something that is ingrained in your head without even thinking about it." 

"Thanks, Professor," Luna said, and Raven grinned and plopped back down in her seat. 

The flight wasn't very long, and the only turbulence they experienced was when the flight attendants informed them that they were very sorry, but they had run out of cookies, but they still had granola bars and snack mix. 

"You had _one job_ " Anya quipped, and everyone laughed. "Maybe we can convince them to give us double cookies on the way back." 

After waiting an eternity to get off the plane, they made their way to baggage claim, where thankfully everyone's checked bags came off the conveyor belt without any delays. A shuttle took them to their hotel, and room keys were distributed. 

"Even number this time," Coach Indra said, "since Fox is on academic probation." How she'd managed that this early in the semester, Clarke had no idea, but it meant she couldn't play. She still had to come to practice, and for home games she was expected to suit up and sit on the bench, but they weren't about to waste money on a plane ticket for her to come to this game when she wouldn't be setting foot on the field. "Figure it out."

Maybe she imagined it, but from where Clarke stood, it looked like everyone inched just a little farther away from Lexa as they grabbed on to their usual roommates... except Fox's usual roommate, who grabbed Roma, who Clarke had roomed with last time, which meant...

_It's fine,_ Clarke told herself, taking her key. _You packed earplugs, and maybe she won't even--_ she stopped the thought before it could grow roots. _It'll be fine._

They had a quick practice that evening, just to work out any tension that had built up while traveling, ate dinner, and then they were sent back to their rooms with instructions to make sure they got a good night's sleep. After a little TV, Clarke said good night and tucked herself in, putting in her earplugs and pulling her covers up almost over her head, hoping if she made herself invisible enough, Lexa would do what she needed to do and they wouldn't have to worry about her flailing on the field the next day.

Clarke must have dozed off, because she woke up disoriented and overheated, and one of her earplugs had come out. She was about to push the blankets off of her head to get some air when she became aware that the sound she was hearing wasn't the air conditioning but someone breathing. Panting, really, but it sounded more like someone who had been running suicides than someone caught in the throes of ecstasy (and maybe Clarke had read one too many romance novels...), and when they – she – _Lexa_ groaned, it was in frustration, not satisfaction at a job well done.

_Shit,_ Clarke thought. _Now what?_


	3. Chapter 3

Lexa watched as Clarke switched off her bedside lamp and curled up under the covers but kept scrolling on her phone until she was sure Clarke had fallen asleep. She tapped into her text history, but there was nothing there that was going to help her tonight. She and Costia never really gotten into sexting; it had always felt just a little too impersonal, and anyway, neither of them was willing to risk getting caught with those kinds of messages on their phones. 

Unfortunately, it meant that Lexa didn't have anything to look back on to try to put herself back in that mindset. She tried to remember some of the conversations they'd had, the things they'd said they would do to each other if only the other one was there...

But every time she'd latch on to a scrap of a memory, a wisp of a feeling, it would come to a screeching halt when she remembered that she couldn't do this anymore. Not thinking about Costia, anyway, because Costia wasn't hers anymore. 

She groaned in frustration, because sleep wasn't coming, and neither was she, and—

And Clarke was awake. Lexa heard her shifting around, the soft swish of the sheets as she slid out from underneath them, and Lexa froze, holding her breath so Clarke wouldn't know what she'd been doing, then realizing that that was just as suspicious, if not more so. She started breathing again but tried to keep it slow and even, like she was asleep, but the air went in as a gasp and out as a sigh (and not a contented one) and Clarke wasn't stupid.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice closer than it should have been, and when Lexa cracked open an eye Clarke was standing next to her bed, looking down at her with little lines between her eyebrows like she got when she was worried about something.

"Fine," Lexa lied, knowing Clarke wouldn't buy it but hoping maybe she would be more concerned with sleeping before the game tomorrow than dealing with Lexa's issues in the middle of the night, and would go to the bathroom or whatever it was she had gotten up to do and go back to bed. 

"Can't sleep?" Clarke asked.

Lexa laughed, or maybe sobbed, she didn't know and it kind of felt like there was no difference, one of those conversations she'd been trying so hard to remember suddenly coming back to her like a ball to the face.

_"I can't sleep," she'd said._

_"Okay..." Costia had said when she didn't elaborate._

_"I have a game tomorrow. I need to sleep."_

_"What do you want me to—seriously?" Costia had asked, realizing what Lexa was asking for, even though they weren't together anymore. It was a habit, a bad one Lexa needed to break... but not tonight._

_"It's the first game! The one that sets the tone for the rest of the season!"_

_"... Seriously?"_

_"Please?"_

_"You so owe me."_

But by the time they'd hung up the phone, Lexa had given as good as she got, metaphorically speaking, and it hadn't even felt strange. That was the thing with rituals, she guessed. They made you feel better even when you knew that they shouldn't.

Right up until they didn't.

Right up until now.

The side of her bed dipped as Clarke sat down on the edge of it, lifting the covers and tucking her feet under, and Lexa hastily pulled her hand back out of her panties, but Clarke didn't invade her cocoon any further. "Talk to me," she said softly. "I know we haven't known each other long, but... I can tell something's bothering you. Something's off. Maybe I can help."

Lexa let out a laugh that was more of a snort. The kind of help that she needed right now wasn't the kind you got from a teammate, or even a friend. But Clarke was stubborn. She wasn't going to let it go. Not without Lexa giving her _something_. 

But what? What could she say that would convince Clarke? What lie could she tell?

"Or don't," Clarke said softly. "You don't have to talk if you don't want to. I'll be right here either way." Her fingers stroked the hair at Lexa's temple gently, sinking into the soft strands and combing through them, tangling a little where her hair curled at the ends. 

Which made her remember slipping her fingers into Costia's curls, wanting it to be sweet and romantic and instead she'd ended up yanking on her hair because she'd underestimated its Devil's Snare-like qualities, and Costia had laughed and kissed her and laughed some more, and...

"We broke up," she said, half-choking on a sob. "Costia and I. This summer. We broke up." The words came tumbling out, and once they started, she couldn't stop them and she didn't want to, because it was a relief to finally say it, for someone else to know, because the truth was she was a terrible liar, and keeping something so monumental from her teammates and best friends, who were one and the same, had been crippling her just as much as the lack of sleep, if not more so.

"No one knows," she added. "No one knows, and I don't want them to. I don't want the pity, I don't want them to try to blame her for my shitty performance, and I sure as hell don't want them trying to hook me up with someone else to 'fix' the problem!"

Because she knew they all knew. Even Clarke. They pretended they didn't know, and she pretended she didn't know they knew, because it was easier for everyone. And she wasn't about to complain about getting a room to herself when they traveled somewhere overnight. 

God, what a mess she'd created. 

And karma was a bitch.

"I'm sorry," Clarke said softly, slumping down so more of her was under the blankets with Lexa, and Lexa only had to tilt her head back a little to look her in the eye. "Can I ask what happened?"

Lexa shrugged. "We just... drifted apart, I guess. It wasn't dramatic. We didn't fight. We didn't even stop loving each other. Not really. Just... we got home for the summer, and I was laying there next to her and I realized that I felt closer to her when she was a voice on the phone than I did when we were actually touching. And I said, 'It's over, isn't it?' and she said, 'I think so, yeah.' And that was that. Only neither of us moved for a while, because..." Lexa sighed. "I don't know. I guess we weren't ready to let go, even though we knew it was time. And even when we did... it was strange, because it was like once we took that pressure off ourselves to be in a capital-R relationship and went back to being friends, we remembered why we'd fallen in love in the first place. And we thought, 'Hey, maybe we were wrong, maybe we can make this work after all.' A couple of times." She let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Then when we came back to school... I couldn't sleep the night before the first game, and, she, uh, lent me a hand, so to speak. Like she used to. Like we used to. But not anymore. Now it's really over, and I still can't sleep, and—" She brushed away the tears that slid down her cheeks hastily. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

"You didn't," Clarke said, sliding down even farther so now her head was on the pillow and they were almost face to face. "I'm sorry things didn't work out." 

"Me too," Lexa said, tears falling harder as Clarke wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in, holding her as she cried, one hand still in her hair and the other rubbing her back until she ran out of tears to cry, or energy to cry them. Clarke nudged at her until she rolled over, spooned into the curve of Clarke's body and acutely aware of the places where their skin touched. She stiffened, thinking she ought to pull away, but Clarke hushed her softly, easing her back. 

"Relax," she said. "Lie back and think of England... versus the US. It's the World Cup final, and we're tied 2-2..."

Lexa started to laugh, because only a soccer player would try to turn World Cup dreams into a bedtime story to ease a teammate's heartache, but it wasn't really funny, because as the words washed over her and the imaginary game unfolded, all she could think about was the way Clarke's breath felt against her skin, raising goosebumps and tightening her nipples... which made her think about Clarke's breasts pressed against her back, and the way her thigh slid against Lexa's as Clarke's hand... slipped... into... her... shorts...

* * *

"Clarke!" Lexa gasped, and Clarke couldn't tell if it was in surprise or desire or some mixture of both. It wasn't in disgust; that much was clear, because even as she craned her neck to try to look at Clarke, her hips arched into the touch. 

_And no wonder she sounded like she was in pain,_ Clarke thought as she slid her fingers between Lexa's legs. _She's almost completely dry._ She let her lips brush against the back of Lexa's neck and felt her shiver and squirm, grinding back against Clarke, then stopping herself when she realized what she was doing.

"What are you...?" Lexa started to ask, but Clarke hushed her, her lips now touching her ear, and Lexa went still and quiet.

"You need to sleep, don't you?" Clarke asked.

"Yes, but—"

"And Costia can't help you anymore."

"No, but—"

"I can," Clarke said. "If you let me."

"I can't," Lexa said. "This is—"

"Just a friend lending a friend a hand," Clarke said. "We can't afford for you to not be at the top of your game tomorrow. We need this win." 

Lexa must have run out of objections, because she sagged back against Clarke, then shifted her hips to give her a better angle. Clarke could feel the heat radiating from her cheek as she pressed a soft, quick kiss to her jaw, then went back to her story... which was ridiculous, but it was also _working_ , and that was all that mattered.

She could feel Lexa warming to her touch, and she wasn't dry anymore, and this time when her breathing got ragged, she didn't sound like she was suffering. Clarke stroked and circled her clit, her other arm wrapped around her, and somehow their fingers had gotten tangled together and Clarke wasn't sure which one of them had done it, and she found herself pressing hard against Lexa's ass, enjoying the friction as she writhed and bucked and finally, with a soft, strangled gasp, scored the game-winning goal. 

Clarke slipped her hand free when the muscles in Lexa's thighs relaxed again, but didn't move until Lexa rolled to look at her, eyes heavy-lidded and mouth lax, and Clarke had to pull away before either of them got any ideas about was happening here. "Think you can sleep now?" Clarke asked, and was rewarded with a soft laugh and the sweetest, most peaceful smile she'd ever seen. "Good," she said. "Good night, Captain."

Lexa laughed again, and Clarke slipped out from under the covers and back into her own bed. She listened as Lexa's breathing slowed, and within a few minutes she was out. Clarke, on the other hand, felt wide awake... and more than a little hot and bothered. It wasn't the first time she'd gotten someone off without getting off herself (and probably wouldn't be the last, unless she could find a much higher caliber boyfriend than she historically had), and she hated feeling like she was trapped in a skin that was too tight, her entire body taut and in need of release.

_To hell with it,_ she decided. _What's good for the goose is good for the gander and all that._ And she stuck her hand into her own panties, sticky with her arousal, and set a new personal best for efficiency in getting herself off. Twice. After her second orgasm, she barely managed to drag the blankets up over herself before she was out like a light.

In the morning, Lexa was up before her, puttering around the room looking more bright-eyed and alert than Clarke had seen her in weeks. "Good morning," Clarke said, pushing herself upright and stretching.

"Morning," Lexa mumbled around a mouthful of toothpaste, then darted back into the bathroom to spit before she drooled on herself. She came back out a minute later, cheeks flushed and eyes darting. "Um. About last night..."

"Did you sleep well?" Clarke asked.

"Better than I have in a long time," Lexa admitted. "I just—"

"Good," Clarke said. "So did I." She put her feet on the floor and looked at Lexa, who sat on the other bed facing her. "It's only weird if you make it weird," she said more gently. "It was something I could do to help you, which helps the team, which helps me. Okay?"

Lexa screwed up her face, then sighed and nodded. "I just don't want anything to change between us," she said. "I like us the way we are."

"Me too," Clarke said. "Breakfast?"

"Breakfast," Lexa agreed, and they said nothing more about it.

* * *

From the minute they hit the field to begin warm-ups, Lexa felt clearer, more alert, more ready to go than she had since before the breakup. She felt like herself again, the player and the person she wanted to be. Her passes were sharp, her shots on target, her communication direct. She could see in Coach's face that she was pleased with her performance, and after a quick exchange between Anya and Coach, she was handed the Captain's armband, even though they would both be starting.

"This is your game," Anya said. "Own it." 

Lexa nodded and slid the elastic up around her bicep, tucking her sleeve into it and making sure it was straight. ( _The only straight thing about you,_ she thought, and the thought had the voices of any number of her teammates, and made her smile. 

Clarke looked at her and grinned back. "You got this," she said. 

" _We_ got this," Lexa answered. 

And they did. If Lexa had felt like they had a connection before, it paled in comparison to the feeling she had today. She didn't need to wonder where Clarke was on the field; she just _knew_. When she took off dribbling and saw Clarke come up beside her and keep going, she passed with confidence when a defender ran up on her, with only the quickest of glances, and the ball landed right at Clarke's feet, and Lexa watched as she carried it down the field, passing quickly to Octavia, who shot and scored. 

Lexa jumped up and cheered, catching up to Clarke and putting an arm around her, shaking her shoulders and pounding her back. 

They dominated the game. It was a tougher team than the last few, but their win was a decisive 3-0, and felt effortless. When the final whistle blew, Lexa went charging back toward the goal, where Anya was standing, her feet planted, and Lexa leapt, wrapping her arms and legs around her. A second later, Luna came up on her other side, and Anya took the hit without even staggering, bearing their weight as if it was nothing. 

Clarke laughed as Anya finally put them down, hugging first Lexa, then Luna, and then the three of them formed a chain and found Roma, who had been subbed out partway into the second half. 

"This calls for a celebration!" Harper said. "Who's with me?"

The suggestion was greeted by cheers, but Coach Indra was quick to establish parameters. They could go out, but it couldn't be anywhere that served alcohol because she wasn't going to be the coach whose team got drunk and unruly, especially since most of them were underage (Luna snorted at that; she was still peeved that she could legally drink at home in Germany, but not in the US). "And you have to be back at the hotel by 7 so we can get back to the airport on time," Coach Indra added. "If you're late, I will leave you, and you'll have to pay for your own flight home." 

She was probably bluffing, but they were all smart enough to know to not try and call it.

They found a restaurant that was able (and willing) to take a rowdy bunch of college soccer players. Lexa suspected the fact that they were girls worked in their favor; people looked at them and thought they might get loud, but they were unlikely to be destructive. Technically it did serve alcohol, but that wasn't its main function, and they would be hard-pressed to find somewhere that wasn't fast food that didn't. They decided that as long as none of them actually drank (even the ones that legally could) they were following the spirit of the law Coach had laid down, if not the letter.

They waited as the servers pushed together a few tables, making two long ones that would seat all of them between them, and there was the usual shuffle as everyone tried to get seats near their friends. Clarke plunked herself down at the end of one table and let everyone else sort themselves around her. "Left-handed," she explained, waving her left elbow in the open air. "There's only really two seats per table where I can sit." 

Lexa hesitated, memories of the night before creeping back in around the high that followed a win. _It's only weird if you make it weird,_ she reminded herself, and sat down next to her. Luna slid in across from them, and they picked up their menus.

"Hopefully there's something I can eat," Lexa said. "I don't know if you've ever had a salad at a steakhouse, but it's a sad state of affairs. And I had to keep reminding them that bacon isn't a vegetable." 

"But bacon bits are vegetarian!" Luna chimed in. 

"They're also gross," Lexa said, wrinkling her nose. 

"You're vegetarian?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa nodded. 

"Huh." Clarke scanned the menu. "Should I have known that?"

"Only if you were paying attention," Luna teased. "But she doesn't lecture other people about it... unlike a _few_ I could mention." Her eyes flicked to the side, where Sydney was loudly grumbling about how this was the 21st century and restaurants should _know_ about dietary restrictions and she shouldn't have to explain what vegan meant _every time_ and...

"Some people just like to complain," Clarke said. "Wait, are you vegan?" She looked at Lexa. "I swear—"

"I'm not vegan," Lexa reassured her. "I would die without cheese. And chocolate. And ice cream. And—"

"Everything that makes food worth eating," Clarke finished for her, grinning. "It looks like they've got a veggie burger," she said. "Or there's a bunch of salads, but you'd have to ask for them without meat." 

"Thanks," Lexa said. Their server approached, and they all ordered, which took longer than it would probably take them to eat the food once it arrived, because some people were indecisive, and others highly suggestible, changing their order three times when someone else ordered something they'd overlooked that sounded better than what they'd originally selected. Finally, their already harried server headed for the kitchen to put the order in, and the volume around the table rose as they all began to rehash the game at top volume.

Lexa squirmed, not sure if it was her job as captain to keep them in line and tell them to take it down a notch before they started bothering other diners. She didn't want to be accused of being a killjoy... but she also didn't want them getting kicked out for causing a disturbance, even though they were only talking. She felt something squeeze her leg, pressing it down to stop its jittering, then Clarke whistled and motioned for everyone to ease back on the volume, just a little.

It got her a few glares – who was she, after all, to tell them what to do, when she'd been with the team for weeks rather than years? – but conversation continued at a less ear-splitting level. Clarke looked at Lexa with a smile. "I got you," she said. 

Lexa felt the press of Clarke's palm on her knee long after she removed it.

* * *

Clarke was relieved when the food came. Mostly because she was starving, but also because it gave her something to do with her hands. Because her fingers twitched with the urge to touch Lexa, to hold her hand or touch her knee (again) or...

_What happened last night was just a fluke,_ she told herself. _Or... not a fluke. But a one-time thing. A friend helping a friend. Taking one for the team. Whatever you want to call it._ Nothing had changed between them, and nothing was going to change. There was no way Clarke was going to risk losing one of the closest friendships she'd ever had just because every time she caught Lexa's eye or heard her laugh or saw her smile butterflies took flight in her stomach. 

She threw herself into eating, occasionally chiming in on the verbal highlights reel that unspooled across the table, some people tooting their own horns, but many taking the opportunity to call attention to the moments of brilliance they'd seen from their teammates during the game. 

"To Polis!" Anya called, raising her glass (of water), and took a sip. They lifted their own glasses. "To Polis!" they echoed, and drank. 

There was another flurry of activity when their server came back to ask if anyone wanted dessert, because _of course_ they wanted dessert. They would pay for it in training on Monday, but as they dug into ice cream and cake and whatever else the place had to offer, it was totally worth every calorie (and the accompanying grumbling that came from a few on the team who were always 'on a diet'). 

"We should go," Lexa finally said, glancing at her phone. "If we're going to get back to the hotel on time."

Clarke glanced at her father's watch... forgetting, as she always did, that it didn't work. She took out her own phone and saw they still had plenty of time, but she didn't question Lexa on it. You didn't undermine a teammate, ever. At least not if you could help it. 

Utensils clinked against plates and bowls as they gulped down the last few bites... and then the check came, and Clarke realized why Lexa had left so much time. They should have asked for individual bills, or at least for the bill to be split up into more than just two, because now that it came time to shell out, everyone seemed to develop amnesia about what they'd ordered, and completely lost the ability to do math. Raven finally snatched the bill from whoever had been holding it and pointed to each of them in turn, giving them a dollar amount. There were a few grumbles, and of course some people didn't have cash on them because that would make life too easy, but finally the bill was settled – with a very generous tip – and they made their way back to the hotel. 

Clarke thought she felt Lexa's hand brush hers as they walked, more than once, but every time she looked over Lexa was looking straight ahead, or talking to someone else, and she told herself she'd imagined it after all.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time they boarded their flight home, most of the adrenaline from the win had faded, and they were a much less boisterous group as they settled into their seats. Luna again took a window seat, and Lexa slid in beside her, followed by Clarke. They fastened their seatbelts and made sure their tray tables were securely fastened, and soon they were in the air. 

"Movie?" Clarke suggested. "If we start them at the same time we can watch together on separate screens." 

Lexa wasn't sure the flight was long enough for an entire movie, but she nodded anyway, and let Clarke choose. They plugged in their headphones and pressed play, then settled back to watch. After a few minutes, Clarke shifted and put the armrest between them up. "It was digging in," she explained, although Lexa didn't see how it could have been. Though the airline seats weren't the most comfortable, they were plenty wide enough for an average-sized person. 

But without the armrest between them, she felt Clarke's shoulder pressing into hers... so maybe she'd been slumped over? _Probably tired,_ Lexa told herself. 

The flight attendant came around, offering blankets to combat the chill of the cabin, and Lexa accepted one even though she wasn't particularly cold, and spread it over her lap... and a little bit over Clarke's, too. She tucked her hand underneath it and almost immediately Clarke's fingers were interlaced with her own, as if Clarke had been thinking the same thing and had just been waiting for the right moment. 

Lexa's stomach – and parts further down – fluttered. It didn't _mean_ anything, she told herself. They were just friends taking comfort in a little physical affection. Because sure, there were plenty of back slaps and side hugs on the field, and of course her celebratory ritual of jumping on Anya and forcing her to catch her in a bear hug, but those moments were fleeting and almost obligatory. Since parting ways with Costia – even when they were still together but at different schools in different states – Lexa had found herself starved for the touch of another human being, craving that spark of connection. 

Maybe Clarke felt the same. Maybe she was missing someone, too. Maybe...

Lexa's heart and throat clenched at the possibility that Clarke might have someone back home, or at her old school. Did what they'd done the night before count as cheating? Not that it was on Lexa to decide that, but she wasn't comfortable being party to something that might hurt someone. She wracked her brain for any mention Clarke had ever made about relationships, past or present, and drew a blank. 

Luna looked over at her, nudging her knee, and Lexa jerked away from Clarke like she was guilty of something. Maybe she was. Clarke's eyes darkened with confusion, and maybe a little hurt, before she curled into herself, tucking her hands between her legs like they were cold and she needed to keep them warm. Or maybe she just didn't know what else to do with them.

" _Alles gut?_ " Luna asked in an undertone. 

Lexa nodded, but she knew her best friend could see the lie in her eyes. She wanted to ask Luna if she could remember Clarke ever mentioning a significant other, but Luna wasn't stupid. Even if she didn't ask why Lexa wanted to know, she would know it wasn't an idle question, that there had to be some reason behind it. Luna's eyes narrowed, and she gave Lexa a look that clearly said this conversation wasn't over, but she didn't press. 

The flight attendants came around again, thankfully not out of cookies this time, and they enjoyed their snacks even though Lexa, at least, was still full from the meal they'd eaten. She tried to pay attention to the movie, but she'd completely lost the plot, and she couldn't stop obsessing over what might be going on in Clarke's head. 

_You could ask,_ a little voice pointed out, but Lexa knew this wasn't the time or place for any kind of deep conversation. Although at least half the team had headphones on, and a significant portion were asleep, there were still too many people around who might overhear. The last thing Lexa wanted was to become part of the rumor mill. That was why she hadn't told anyone about Costia, after all.

"I'm not feeling it either," Clarke finally said, stopping the movie. "Nailed It?" She reached for her tablet. Lexa smiled and nodded, and they settled back against each other, forced into close proximity because now they were sharing a screen. They were going to run out of episodes eventually – sooner than later, with all the long bus rides they went on – and Lexa wondered what they would watch next. She felt Clarke's fingers brush the back of her hand, once again tucked under the blanket they kind of shared, and she grasped them without hesitation. 

"Sorry," she murmured. "About before. I—"

"I get it," Clarke said.

Lexa wondered if she really did.

* * *

Back at school, Clarke settled back into a routine... or at least she tried to. It was harder than she'd expected to put that night in the hotel out of her head. She really hadn't meant for it to mean anything, and it _didn't_ mean anything... except that sometimes Clarke woke up in the middle of the night soaked with sweat and aching. She never remembered the details of the dreams – and they were definitely dreams, not nightmares – but in her heart she knew it wasn't any of her exes she was dreaming about. 

But days passed and turned into a week, and then two, and Lexa must have figured out how to work out whatever was going on on her own, because she continued to show up to games well-rested and confident. Clarke told herself what she was feeling wasn't disappointment, but she wasn't a very good liar, even – especially – to herself. 

It had been nice to be needed. 

Her only consolation was that even if Lexa didn't need her to lend a hand, so to speak, she still seemed to want Clarke's company, seeking her out for meals and study sessions and movie nights, often with other members of the team, but sometimes just the two of them. And they always sat together on the bus now, using their shared screen as an excuse to press close to each other, especially on the rides home when they were no longer focused on the game ahead and could allow themselves to relax. 

They were friends. That was all, and that was enough. It was for the best, really. Getting involved with a teammate was just asking for trouble, and trouble was the last thing Clarke needed. So she focused on classes – she had to keep her grades up if she wanted to keep playing – and practice, and of course on the games that made the grind of training worth it. They were on a hot streak, winning one game after another, but Coach warned them not to get cocky. One of their toughest games of the season was coming up, and they couldn't get lazy. 

The night before the game, Clarke forced herself to go to bed early. Early by college standards, anyway, but they'd been told on no uncertain terms in the lead-up to the game that they needed to eat well, stay hydrated, and get plenty of sleep, because they needed to be in top form if they wanted to win this game. They had home field advantage, but that only got them so far. So when most college students were just gearing up for the night, Clarke was brushing her teeth and putting on pajamas. She had just turned off the lights and settled into bed when a message from Lexa popped up on her screen.

* * *

**Lexa:** You awake?

Lexa hit send on the message before she could second-guess herself, and immediately wished she could take it back. What the hell was Clarke supposed to say? What did Lexa _want_ her to say? They both ought to be sleeping, if not now then soon. But Lexa was keyed up about the game, and Octavia was actually in the room for once, so you could cut the tension in her room with a knife. It didn't make for ideal sleeping conditions. 

**Clarke:** Just got into bed, Captain. 😉

Lexa let out a soft breath, her eyes flicking to Octavia, whose back was turned, her face lit by the glow of her phone. Probably talking to Lincoln, who was at an away game and wouldn't be back until sometime tomorrow. Her roommate didn't give any indication that she'd heard, and Lexa turned her attention back to her own conversation.

**Lexa:** Me too, but I can't sleep...

Again, she wished she could take it back as soon as she hit send. Maybe not the whole message, but at least those last two periods, because that dot dot dot made it seem like she was leaving a blank for Clarke to fill in, and maybe she was. 

No, she definitely was. Even though she knew she shouldn't. She knew what Clarke was most likely to think the ellipsis implied... and she wouldn't be wrong in thinking it. 

God, what was _wrong_ with her? 

**Clarke:** Do you want me to come over?

Lexa swallowed, her mouth gone suddenly dry. _Yes,_ she wanted to say. _More than anything._ Not even for... that, because that had been a one time thing that wasn't going to happen again. Lexa told herself she didn't need – or want – it to happen again. She'd gotten through the nights leading up to the last couple of games with just the memory, trying as hard as she could to replace Clarke's voice with someone else's, to make the experience general and vague because otherwise it felt too much like she was using Clarke. Even though Clarke had been the one to initiate it. 

Lexa squirmed, her eyes flicking to the bed across the room again. 

**Lexa:** O is here.

Three dots popped up, indicating Clarke was typing, and Lexa realized she was barely breathing as she waited for the response to come through, not even sure anymore what she wanted it to be.

**Clarke:** You could come here. Maya took a double dose of melatonin to make sure she got enough sleep so she's not waking up any time soon.

Lexa's stomach swarmed with butterflies, and her hands shook. She should say no. She should say she was okay. She should tell Clarke to get some sleep. She should...

**Lexa:** Are you sure?

Clarke's response was immediate.

**Clarke:** I'm sure.

**Lexa:** I'll have to get up.

After... whatever happened happened. Maybe they would just watch a movie. Maybe that would be enough. 

Lexa rolled her eyes at herself. Who was she kidding? She knew exactly what Clarke was offering. What she was _this close_ to accepting, against all reason and her better judgment and—

**Clarke:** It's only down the hall. 

Lexa could imagine her smiling, amused by Lexa's attempts to talk herself – or Clarke – out of it. 

**Lexa:** I know.

**Clarke:** Or I could set an early alarm.

Lexa's heart tripped and stumbled into her ribs, beating so loudly she was sure Octavia could hear it. But the light on her roommate's phone had finally gone out, and when Lexa's heart slowed enough for her to hear over the pounding in her ears, her breathing was slow and even. She was asleep (probably) which meant she wouldn't hear if Lexa decided to take care of business...

... or sneak out. 

To spend the night with Clarke.

She made one last ditch effort to talk herself – or both of them – out of it. 

**Lexa:** The bed's not that big. 

**Clarke:** We'll manage.

Lexa slipped out of bed.

* * *

Clarke opened the door and motioned Lexa inside, shutting it quickly behind her as if they had something to hide. As if they didn't go into each other's rooms all the time. But they both knew why she was here, so it felt illicit even if no one else would raise an eyebrow if they happened to glance into the hall at that exact moment. 

Clarke fought the urge to squirm as they stood looking at each other, only barely visible in the light that leaked in under the door and around the window shades. Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where they started kissing... if they were a regular couple sneaking into each other's room while their roommate slept. But they weren't a regular couple. They weren't a couple at all. Which made this...

Weird.

And awkward.

And probably a mistake. 

But Clarke had offered, and she wasn't going to back down now. And if she didn't overthink it ( _yeah, right_ ) it wasn't a big deal, or it didn't have to be. People had friends with benefits. This was just... a little more one-sided. But Clarke had started it. She'd set the precedent. 

_It's only weird if you make it weird,_ she reminded herself, and found Lexa's hand in the dark and drew her to the bed. 

It took a moment for them to settle, to figure out how to fit their bodies together, and Clarke could feel the pounding of Lexa's heart through her skin. She pressed her lips to where it beat hardest in her throat, almost without thinking, and Lexa let out a sigh that was almost a moan, and reached back to pull Clarke closer, grinding her hips. Clarke stifled a groan and slipped her hand under the hem of Lexa's t-shirt – from some soccer camp she'd attended long enough ago that the shirt was silky to the touch and almost translucent from repeated washing – tracing her fingers over Lexa's ribs as high as she dared, not sure what this arrangement did and didn't allow her to touch. Clarke's thumb brushed the curve of the underside of Lexa's breast and Lexa's breath caught. Clarke couldn't see, but she imagined Lexa biting her lip, and the image did things to her...

She swallowed hard and let her hand creep downward, over the smooth plane of Lexa's belly, skin stretched over taut muscle, and inched her fingers under the waistband of her shorts. 

She wasn't wearing anything underneath. 

Was that how she normally slept? Had she taken her panties off before coming here? Had she not put them on in the first place, knowing she would end up here? Or hoping? 

_Does it matter?_ , Clarke asked herself. 

It did. It really did, but she couldn't think about that now. She focused on the fact that it made her job – and that's all it was, just a job, just a favor to help Lexa fall asleep. Like reading a bedtime story or singing a lullaby. 

But there was no bedtime story needed this time to get Lexa going. She was already wet, slick and hot beneath Clarke's fingers, and it was easy. Almost too easy, Clarke thought, as Lexa shuddered and clamped her thighs around Clarke's hand what felt like only a moment later. She ought to be glad, but...

Lexa's fingers, which had fisted themselves in Clarke's shorts, slowly relaxed, and she went soft in Clarke's arms as her body unclenched. She turned her head, and for a second Clarke thought Lexa might kiss her, and for a second Clarke thought she might let her.

But Lexa just looked at her, eyes bright even in the dark, and Clarke could feel her panting breath on her skin, slowly steadying. And then she bit her lip, just like Clarke had imagined, and her hand was still on Clarke's leg, her fingers shifting almost imperceptibly, stroking Clarke's thigh in a way that set her nerves on fire. 

"Do you want me to...?" Lexa asked. 

Clarke closed her eyes, sucked in a breath. _Yes,_ she thought. Yes, she did, and no, she couldn't. Because if she let Lexa touch her it would be more than just a favor. It would be sex. It would be complicated. It was why Clarke had spooned against her and reached around in the first place; if they were face-to-face the temptation to kiss would be too much. And if they kissed, Clarke knew it would start them down a very slippery slope, and she just couldn't take that chance.

"I'm okay," Clarke said, even though she was anything but. 

Lexa bit her lip again, and Clarke watched it slowly slide through her teeth. "I should go," she whispered.

_I should let you,_ Clarke thought. "You don't have to," she said. 

"We don't know when Maya will wake up," Lexa said. "And if O wakes up and I'm not there..."

"Okay," Clarke said. She let Lexa go, let her slide from her the bed, grabbing hold of the sheets to stop herself from grabbing Lexa instead. "I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well." 

"You too," Lexa said, closer than Clarke expected, like she didn't really want to go. "Thank you." 

"Any time," Clarke said, somehow managing to make it sound teasing. 

"Good night, Clarke," Lexa said, and Clarke could hear the smile in her voice. She closed her eyes so she didn't see her leave, only heard the soft click of the door as it closed behind her. 

Clarke groaned, burying her face in her pillow, which now bore the scent of Lexa's shampoo. She breathed it in, slid her hand into her pants, and groaned again.

* * *

Lexa padded down the hall quickly, ducking into her room and closing the door as quietly as she could. She braced herself for an interrogation, but Octavia didn't so much as stir. Lexa climbed back into bed, wrapping her blankets around her like a cocoon, and let herself imagine it was Clarke's arms around her instead. 

She almost - _almost_ \- regretted leaving. She hadn't expected Clarke to say yes when she offered to reciprocate, but she wasn't going to pretend she hadn't been disappointed when she'd turned her down... but maybe also a little relieved. Not because Lexa didn't want to, but because she did. And that would only make things complicated. _More_ complicated. 

Were they complicated? Or was Lexa just overthinking it? 

Clarke was her friend... with benefits. But what was the benefit to Clarke? She'd started it. Lexa hadn't asked her to climb into bed with her at the hotel, hadn't asked her to touch her, to release all the tension she hadn't been able to alleviate herself. She hadn't asked... 

... that time.

She hadn't asked this time, either, except she kind of had. But Clarke could have played dumb. She could have offered to watch a movie or just talk or... 

She could have, but she didn't. 

_It helps you, which helps the team, which helps me,_ Clarke had said. Was that the benefit? Was that all? Was it enough?

_It can't happen again,_ Lexa told herself, giving in to the endorphins that even her spiraling thoughts couldn't erase. _It won't._

It did. 

Before the next game, and the one after that, and the one after that, and every time Lexa swore it would be the last time. But then the night before a game Clarke would show up at her door (or, rarely, Lexa showed up at Clarke's, but Maya was nearly always home and Octavia almost never was) and they slipped into bed and took care of business and parted ways. More than once Lexa told Clarke she didn't have to keep doing this, that she would be okay, but every time Clarke just hushed her, dismissing her concern and pulling her close. Lexa kept her hands to herself... mostly... and they never kissed... on the lips. But sometimes Clarke's lips grazed the back of Lexa's shoulder or neck, the column of her throat, the sharp line of her jaw, and sometimes Lexa's found the pulse in Clarke's wrist, or the center of her palm, or the crook of her elbow. Once – only once – she even slid her hand along with Clarke's into her shorts after she came... for the second time... and drew their interlaced fingers out and up, her tongue flicking out to taste herself on Clarke's fingertips. 

She didn't know what made her do it, but she heard Clarke's breath catch, felt her grind against Lexa's ass before she realized what she was doing and stopped herself, and Lexa almost did it again to see what Clarke would do. Would she keep going? Would she – how much would it take to make her come? 

Clarke pulled her hand away, and Lexa let her. 

Each time Clarke lingered a little longer, held Lexa a little tighter after, or maybe Lexa just imagined it. During the day, though, they were the same as always... or maybe better. Their connection off the field only strengthened what they had on it, and if anyone else on the team noticed anything, no one commented. The team's winning streak continued, and Lexa started to think they might have a real shot not only at winning their conference, but nationals as well. They were stronger this year than in past years. She found herself looking forward to the upcoming tournament where they would really get a chance to show their stuff, to prove themselves, and with any luck, to put a little fear in the hearts of future rivals.

She left the door wedged open so Clarke wouldn't have to knock and was halfway through changing into her pajamas when her phone lit up with a text. 

**Costia:** I can't wait to see you tomorrow!

And the bottom dropped out from under Lexa's world.

She'd forgotten. Somehow, she'd forgotten, even though they'd talked about it more than once. It had been a few days since she'd last talked to Costia, weeks since they had a conversation that lasted more than a few texts, and it had completely slipped her mind that their tournament was in the same city where Costia went to school, and she was planning to come to at least one of the games.

Which meant facing her... and probably Gaia. And Costia had always been able to see right through her.

"What's wrong?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa jumped, nearly dropping her phone. She set it down carefully on her desk, screen down so Clarke couldn't accidentally see the notification. Not that Lexa had anything to hide. She wasn't doing anything wrong. "Nothing," she said. "I'm fine."

Clarke's eyes narrowed and she scrutinized Lexa's face. Lexa fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest, as if that could protect her from Clarke's searching gaze. After a moment Clarke's shoulders dropped. "Okay," she said. "We'll pretend that's true. Were you going to put a shirt on, or...?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Shit." Lexa grabbed a shirt from her bed and quickly covered up, and Clarke could see the blush spreading out from her cheeks to her ears and down her neck, embarrassment making her entire body tense... including her skin, and she didn't get the shirt over her head quickly enough for Clarke to miss the way her nipples formed taut, perky points...

Clarke felt her own skin getting tight, a rush of blood draining from her head to other parts. 

It wasn't the first time she'd seen Lexa naked. Far from it, with the amount of time they spent in locker rooms – and sometimes communal showers, depending on the facilities available – together. And of course she'd noticed Lexa's body before, but this was the first time she was really, truly aware of it, and its absolute perfection. It made her suddenly self-conscious of all the ways her own body didn't measure up. She was short, for one, and curvy in ways that made people look at her and think – and sometimes even ask out loud – ' _You're_ an athlete?' Even Raven had joked about how if she ever designed something with as much structural integrity as Clarke's sports bras, she would consider her engineering career a success. Most of the time Clarke didn't care that she didn't fit the soccer player mold. She liked her body. It did what she needed it to do, and when she looked in the mirror, she was happy with what she saw. But plenty of people over the years – coaches, trainers – hadn't, had thought she could do to lose a couple of pounds, shed the 'baby fat' she hadn't had as a baby (or a child, anyway). They'd tried to force her into that mold, as if a uniform wasn't just worn on the outside, even when she met and even surpassed all of the fitness benchmarks they set. A few times she'd almost listened, almost tried to change herself, or almost given up on pursuing what had been a lifelong dream. It had been pure stubbornness and the desire to prove them all wrong that got her where she was today.

Which was, at this exact moment – staring at her teammate and friend's chest. 

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to meet Lexa's eyes... or try to, because Lexa refused to meet hers. 

"Hey," Clarke said, closing the distance between them and touching Lexa's arm. "Do you want me to go?"

Lexa shook her head. Shook her whole self and sucked in a breath. "No," she said. "But maybe we could... watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," Clarke said easily. It wasn't that late; if they went to sleep after the movie they would still get a decent amount of sleep before their early morning wake-up call, and they could always nap on the bus (although that usually left Clarke feeling worse than if she'd just tried to power through). 

"You pick," Lexa said. She finished changing into her pajamas, switched off the light and got into bed, flipping back the blankets so Clarke could climb in beside her. They settled back against the pillows and Clarke scrolled through the movies Lexa had downloaded, finally settling on a silly superhero movie that she knew wasn't too long. 

Lexa's hand found hers under the blankets and their fingers laced together. They had no one to hide from, but still they hid, and Clarke's heart did a little flip... but not in a good way. She'd been someone's dirty little secret before, and—

"Costia's coming," Lexa blurted, barely five minutes into the movie. "Tomorrow. Costia's coming to the game."

"Oh," Clarke said. What else was she supposed to say? 'Great'? 'That's wonderful'? 'Are you excited?' It wasn't great, or wonderful, and clearly Lexa wasn't excited. At least it made sense now why Lexa had looked like she'd seen a ghost when Clarke walked in. In a way, she had, if her ex had just announced her intention to come back and haunt her.

"Why?" Clarke asked. 

"To see me," Lexa said. "We're still friends."

The feelings that had been simmering in Clarke's gut the minute Lexa said her ex-girlfriend's name rapidly came to a boil. _Why?_ , she wanted to ask again. _Why would you stay friends with someone who broke your heart?_

But she hadn't... exactly. The break-up had been mutual, according to Lexa. Distance had dimmed the spark between them, but they still cared about each other. Still loved each other... as friends. Like she and Lexa were friends? 

The thought sent a chill through Clarke, goosebumps racing up her arms and down her legs. What if...?

_Costia has a girlfriend,_ she reminded herself. _She didn't waste any time moving on. Meanwhile, Lexa still has trouble sleeping, and—_

Was that it? Was Costia coming to mess with Lexa's head? Was her new girlfriend on one of the teams they would be facing, and she thought she could psych Lexa out? 

_Not going to happen,_ Clarke growled silently at the girl she'd never met, but would tomorrow, apparently. 

"It's fine," Lexa said, maybe more to herself than to Clarke. "I'd just forgotten. It'll be fine." 

' _I'll_ be fine,' she didn't say. Clarke squeezed her hand, saying it for her.

Lexa looked over at her and smiled, letting her head drop onto Clarke's shoulder. They went back to watching the movie, but Clarke was pretty sure neither of them would remember a single thing about it in the morning.

When it was over they slipped down under the blankets, and Clarke shaped herself against Lexa's back as she always did, short nails dragging up Lexa's thigh and making her shiver and press back harder into Clarke's embrace. But when she started to slip her hand under Lexa's waistband, Lexa stopped her. "Not tonight?"

She sounded so small, so young and unsure, and Clarke's heart broke. But she started to draw away, to extricate herself from Lexa and the blankets, knowing the walk back to her room, though it was only a few steps, would feel more like a walk of shame than anything ever had before. 

Lexa's fingers tightened around her wrist. "You don't have to go," she said. She swallowed hard enough Clarke could hear it in the darkness. "I don't want you to go. Please?"

Clarke settled back onto the bed, her arms around Lexa even tighter than before. She pressed her lips to the back of Lexa's shoulder, just where it curved into her neck, and Lexa sighed, all of her tension ebbing away. 

"Good night, Clarke," she whispered. 

"Good night, Lexa," Clarke whispered back, every part of her aching but especially her heart.

* * *

Lexa woke up before her alarm. It happened most mornings, regardless of what time the alarm was set for, as if her internal clock knew and wanted to prove to her that it was better than any electronic device... or maybe was just determined to deprive her of that last five minutes. She reached to turn it off – once she was awake she couldn't stand the noise – and found herself pinned down by the weight of Clarke's arm. 

_Oh,_ she thought. _She's still here._

She hadn't expected her to be. She'd expected Clarke would wake up at some point in the night and leave her, like she always left, because Maya was an early riser and she would – well, might – ask questions if she woke up and Clarke – who wasn't nearly so fond of mornings – was missing. 

Lexa tried again to roll over, and this time Clarke grumbled and tightened her arms around her. Which made Lexa's breath catch and her heart skip a beat, and she knew she had to put an end to this. "Clarke," she whispered. "We need to get up."

Clarke groaned and buried her face in Lexa's back, and a slightly hysterical giggle rose up and escaped Lexa's lips before she could stop it. "Clarke," she said again, a little louder. "Seriously." 

"Whyyyy?" Clarke groaned, the words vibrating down Lexa's spine. "It's not faaaaiiiir..."

"Whoever told you life is fair lied," Lexa said. She laced her fingers through Clarke's and pried them gently away, rolling to face her. She pressed her forehead to Clarke's, the tips of their noses brushing. Clarke finally opened her eyes, and they locked with Lexa's. For a moment neither of them moved, or even breathed. It was Lexa that looked away first. "Come on," she said, sitting up. "Bus is in an hour."

"Which means I can sleep for at least another forty-five minutes," Clarke grumbled, but she pushed back the covers and kicked her legs over the edge of the bed, muttering and groaning the entire time. 

"Breakfast?" Lexa suggested.

Clarke grunted, but her chin dipped in a nod, and she ducked into the hall, slipping into her room to change into something more dining hall appropriate (which turned out to be sweatpants and a hoodie over her pajamas) before returning. 

A few of the other members of the team were already there when they got there, including Luna who greeted them both with hugs, and Maya who Lexa probably imagined was giving them a scrutinizing look. They joined them at the long table they'd staked out, claiming seats side-by-side, and that wasn't out of the ordinary but suddenly Lexa wondered how that looked to everyone else. 

Clarke nudged her. "Food?"

"If you can call it that," Lexa said, but followed her into the buffet area and grabbed a tray. 

Conversation was subdued, but the volume rose as more of the team arrived, and by the time they finished eating almost everyone was there and there was a loud mix of strategy and shit-talk about the games ahead that only broke up when someone pointed out they needed to get to the bus in less than twenty minutes, and most – if not all – of them needed to go back to their rooms to finish getting ready. 

On the bus, Lexa almost - _almost_ \- took the seat next to Luna, because she still didn't know how she was supposed to feel about waking up with Clarke beside her, knowing what had – and hadn't – happened the night before. But then she imagined the look on Clarke's face, the hurt and confusion and ultimate resignation, and knew she couldn't do it. She took her usual seat by the window, and a few minutes later Clarke slid in next to her. 

"How do you feel about Australian AirBnBs?" she asked. 

"Uh..."

Clarke laughed. "Okay, I'll find something else. Too much drama before a game anyway." 

When they finally pulled up to the school where the tournament was being held, they were all more than ready to get off the bus. They left their overnight bags on the bus and headed straight for the locker rooms, which were crowded with several teams' worth of girls. They staked out a corner for themselves (because it would have been too much to ask for each team to have its own designated space, clearly) and quickly got changed, then headed out to the field to start to loosen up. Their first game wasn't for an hour, but they all had plenty of kinks to work out after the long drive. 

They were doing a few easy laps when Lexa heard an all-too-familiar voice calling her name. She thought about ignoring it – they were in the middle of warm-ups, after all – but they were self-directed at the moment while Coach dealt with some sort of paperwork snafu or something so it wasn't as if there was anyone to yell if she took a small detour. 

"Oh my god it's so good to see you," Costia said, throwing her arms around Lexa and squeezing. "I know you're busy, but I just wanted to say hi and good luck before the game." 

"Thank you," Lexa said, peeling herself away before she could give in to the urge to sink into the embrace like old times. "We're on field three," she said. 

"I know," Costia said, flashing a smile that used to – and maybe still did, just a little – melt Lexa's heart... and resolve. "I'll see you after?"

Lexa nodded. "Yeah, okay." She started to jog back to rejoin the team, but she couldn't stop herself from a last quick glance back... and wished she hadn't, because a tall, slender figure emerged from the shadows and took Costia's hand, and Lexa heard Costia's laugh ringing through the air. She picked up her pace. 

Clarke lagged at the back of the pack, clearly waiting for her. "Okay?" she asked. 

Lexa sighed. When had she become so transparent? But she didn't have time for drama right now, so she put on her game face and bumped her shoulder against Clarke's, her hand on her back pressing her to put on a little speed. "I will be."

* * *

Clarke wasn't sure what to expect from Lexa on the field after her run-in with her ex, but she should have known better than to doubt her. Before and above anything, Lexa was a soccer player, with aspirations of going pro after college, and maybe – hopefully – earning herself a place on the national team. She wasn't going to let anything – or anyone – get in the way of that. 

If anything, it seemed to motivate her to play harder, and smarter, her communication clear and her passes crisp, dancing around opponents and driving not just herself but the whole team forward. She wasn't captain that game, but she and Anya seemed to share some kind of psychic connection, because when their goalkeeper got frustrated with several bits of sloppy play and was reduced to incoherent shouting, Lexa turned it into words and got them back on track. Clarke caught Anya flashing Lexa a grateful thumb's up, and Lexa just grinned. 

They ended the half down by a point, but they'd been picking up momentum, and when they hit the field again, Lexa didn't let it flag. She drove them forward, and Clarke found herself grinning (even when she was panting a little trying to match her teammate's pace) because most of the time they were a good team. Today they were great, and so much of that was down to Lexa's leadership on the field. 

She watched as Lexa made her way down the field, driving for the goal, but one of their opponent's defenders appeared almost out of nowhere, trying to cut her off. Lexa could still make the shot, Clarke knew, and she held her breath, waiting...

"Clarke!" 

Her head snapped back to Lexa from the goal, which she'd been watching, waiting for the ball to soar into the net, and put on a burst of speed to meet the pass that had been shot her way. With everyone focused on Lexa, she found herself wide open, although probably not for long. She checked her periphery, looking for their defenders, not wanting to be caught offside, and when she was sure she was clear – and they had noticed she had the ball – she pulled back her leg and took the shot.

It soared high, and she held her breath, waiting for it to go straight over the goal, or into the post, or—

At the last second it sank, dropping in behind the keeper, and the crowd let out a roar. They were tied now, and even though Clarke doubted many of the spectators were actually here for their team, everyone loved an equalizer. 

Lexa crashed into her, wrapping her arms around her and holding her tight, her face split wide with a grin, and then Luna and several others crowded around her, slapping her back and grabbing the top of her head (Clarke really hated being short...) before returning to play. 

"You had the shot," Clarke said breathlessly. 

"You had a better one," Lexa replied, giving her back one final pat before diving back into the thick of things. 

A last minute, half-wild shot from Octavia clinched the game in their favor, and Coach was all smiles in the locker room after. They were given leave to go watch other games, or to relax as they saw fit, as long as they didn't leave the campus and were back in time to get on the bus to go to the hotel for the night. 

Lexa broke off from the group, and Clarke assumed she was going to find Costia. Clarke wanted to stop her, to get her to stay with the rest of them and bask in the afterglow of a game well-played, but before she could get Lexa's attention she veered off the path back to the locker room and straight into Costia's arms. Clarke stumbled to a stop a few steps behind, watching. 

"You were amazing," Costia said, hugging her and not letting go. "Seriously, that was one of the best games I've seen, and I've seen quite a few!" She grinned and winked, and Clarke felt irritation flare, spreading across her skin like a heat rash. She knew, because Lexa had told her, that Costia hadn't known a thing about soccer before she and Lexa started dating, but by the time they'd graduated high school, she'd known the rules inside and out – sometimes better than the referees, or at least Lexa said some games felt that way. 

"Thanks," Lexa said. She pulled away, Clarke assumed to prevent Costia from ending up soaked in her sweat, although she didn't seem to mind and it wouldn't have been the first time. Clarke stuffed the thought down, tensing as Costia's companion approached. 

"Great game," she said, holding out a hand. "I'm Gaia."

Lexa took her hand and shook it, and Clarke wondered if it felt as weirdly formal as it looked. Who the hell shook hands outside of an interview? She saw Lexa tense, and Clarke didn't blame her. It felt a little bit like Gaia was staking her claim, making sure Lexa knew she was there and that Costia was her girlfriend now and—

Clarke took a step closer, bristling, and Costia's attention snapped to her. "You must be Clarke!" 

Lexa turned her head so fast she grimaced, and Clarke hoped she hadn't tweaked it. They needed her in top form for their game tomorrow. But there were more pressing matters right now – like the fact that she'd just inserted herself into the most awkward reunion ever. 

"You must be Costia," Clarke said. 

"Guilty as charged," she said, turning up the wattage on her smile. "I've heard so much about you, and from what I saw out there, every bit of it is true. I saw Lexa and Luna play together in high school, and they were good, but the three of you..." Costia shook her head. "You're like a well-oiled machine. A single unit in three bodies. It was amazing. And your goal? I was on the edge of my seat, thinking Lexa was going to lose the ball, but then there you were, in exactly the right place at the right time. Awesome." 

"Thanks," Clarke said. Costia was charming; she had to give her that. She turned to Lexa. "I'm going to watch the Northern game – size up the competition. You coming?" 

Lexa nodded, although she still looked a little dazed at Clarke's sudden appearance, and Clarke wondered if she would hear about it later, when they were back at the hotel for the night. 

_If_ Lexa came back to the hotel for the night. She had to, didn't she? And it wasn't as if she and Costia were going to hook back up. Costia's girlfriend was standing _right there_. But Fox was off of academic probation, so the whole team was there, which meant they were back to having an odd number and someone would get a room to herself.

_No, not someone,_ Clarke reminded herself. _Lexa. It's always Lexa._ And if Clarke declared her intention to room with her, it would raise eyebrows... and questions. Questions they weren't willing to answer.

Questions they maybe didn't have the answers to. 

"Go on," Lexa said, her hand pressing lightly – reassuringly – against the small of Clarke's back. "I'll be there in a few."

Clarke had the wild urge to grab Lexa's face between her hands and kiss her, to show Costia and Gaia and the world that Lexa was fine, that her ex didn't still have a hold on her, that—

_That you're insecure and jealous and trapped in a disaster of your own making,_ Clarke realized. 

"Okay, babe," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll see you soon."

* * *

Costia's eyebrows went up, and the corners of her lips with them. "You didn't tell me she's your girlfriend," she said, amused rather than annoyed. 

"She's not," Lexa said, too quickly and too loud, the lady protesting too much. 

"She called you babe."

"She calls everyone babe." Which was true... ish. Clarke had certainly called other members of the team babe before, like a guy might use 'bro'. Girls didn't have a generic term of... not affection, exactly, but camaraderie? like that. 

"Uh-huh," Costia said. "It's okay, you know. Obviously." She glanced at Gaia, who had taken a step back, giving them some semblance of privacy. "You don't have to spare my feelings, or—"

"I'm not," Lexa said. "It's—" She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat and blinking back the pricking in her eyes. "Not here, okay? Not now."

Costia looked at her – really looked – and nodded. "Tell me when and where," she said. "I'll be there."


	6. Chapter 6

Lexa retreated to the locker room, dodging around girls from teams that were just coming back from the field or just heading out to it. She found her locker – thankfully she'd remembered to take a picture of it because there's no way she would have remembered the number – and spun the dial on the lock with shaking hands, cursing when she went past the second number and had to start all over again. 

"You okay?" Anya asked, stretching her long legs out in front of her. 

Lexa nodded. "Yeah. Just... low blood sugar, maybe." 

Anya looked her up and down. "You need me to get you something?"

"I'm good," Lexa said, flashing what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm meeting Clarke at the Northern game to check out the competition. I'm sure she'll have snacks." 

" _Have_ snacks, or _be_ a snack?" Anya teased, then laughed. After a second, her grin slipped and her eyebrows went up. "Wait – doesn't Costia go to school here?" 

"Near here," Lexa said, tugging on her lock, which finally popped open on the third try. She stripped out of her sweaty uniform and pulled on sweats and a hoodie, then sat down next to Anya to switch out her cleats for sneakers. 

"You going to see her?" Anya asked. 

"Already did," Lexa said, yanking on her laces before she'd gotten then untangled and knotting them in the process. "Fuck!" 

"Slow down," Anya said. She grabbed Lexa's leg and hauled it into her lap, deftly picking out the knot she'd created. "I mean are you going to see her _later_?" She waggled her eyebrows, a smirk twisting her lips. 

"If I can clear it with Coach," Lexa said. Part of her hoped Coach would say no, no way, you're staying with the rest of the team, I don't care who you're seeing or how long it's been. Because if Coach wouldn't let her go, she wouldn't have to have the conversation she knew she needed to have with _someone_ , but definitely didn't want to. Most of her, though, just wanted to get it over with and get it all out. Because she was getting more and more tangled in the web of... not lies, but... half-truths? obfuscations? delusions? she and Clarke had woven around themselves, and she didn't know how to untangle it. Maybe Costia would be able to cut through it as easily as Anya had taken care of her laces.

"Good luck with that," Anya said. She shoved Lexa's leg off her lap and stood up, stretching toward the ceiling so she towered over Lexa even more than usual. She reached out and nudged Lexa's head, then left her alone with her thoughts and the chatter of a few dozen strangers. 

Lexa shoved her stuff into her locker and snapped the lock back in place, then checked the schedule to see what field Northern was playing on. She made a quick detour to the small concession stand that had been set up, then made her way over, her muscles already starting to protest her lack of a proper cooldown. The stands were sparsely populated and it didn't take long to pick out Clarke and several of their teammates. Lexa climbed up to them and slid into the seat next to Clarke. "Got you something," she said, offering the pack of overpriced Sour Patch Kids she'd just bought. 

"Got you something too," Clarke said, tossing her a package of pretzels. "I won't tell if you don't." 

"Never," Lexa said, and tore into the plastic bag. "What'd I miss?" she asked, leaning in to press her shoulder into Clarke's. 

"Not much," Clarke said, but gave her a quick overview of the play up to that point anyway as they settled in to watch, making mental notes and occasional comments to each other in anticipation of their match-up the next day. 

When the whistle for halftime blew, the other members of their team scattered, maybe bored or maybe just needing food or a bathroom, leaving the two of them alone together. Clarke looked over, her eyes full of concern. "You okay?" 

"Of course," Lexa said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Clarke shrugged, looking down. "I just... can't imagine it's easy seeing her with someone else." 

Lexa sighed, deflating a little. "It's not, I guess. But..." She shrugged. "I thought it would bother me more than it does?" She nudged Clarke's knee, because she was still staring at the back of the seat in front of her, but she looked a million miles away. "Are _you_ okay?"

"You're better than I am," Clarke said finally. "I would—" She stopped, shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Lexa said. 

"I just don't think I could be so cool about seeing someone I used to love with the person they left me for," Clarke said. 

"We were already broken up," Lexa reminded her. 

"Right. Just..." Clarke finally looked up, her eyes locking with Lexa's and Lexa couldn't have looked away if she wanted to. "I never told you why I transferred, did I?" 

Lexa shook her head, waiting for Clarke to tell her now. Seconds passed and turned into minutes, and Lexa started to reach for Clarke's hand but Clarke pulled away, and Lexa crumpled in on herself, pulling her knees together and her shoulders in. 

Clarke winced, brushing her fingers against the back of Lexa's, just for a second. "I got myself in over my head with a guy and it was pretty much the only way out," she finally admitted. "I applied to transfer and once I knew it had gone through, I broke up with him... and then I broke up with him again over the summer after he convinced me he was sorry and we could make it work and—" She sucked in a breath. "I felt like such an idiot, but it was easier than trying to fight with him, you know?" Clarke sniffed and scrubbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. 

Lexa swallowed, extending her arms away from her sides in an awkward offer of a hug that might have been mistaken for an imitation of a penguin.

Clarke (correctly) interpreted it as the former and slid into them, and Lexa shivered as her breath brushed against her neck when she whispered, "Best decision I ever made."

* * *

It took some fast-talking, but Lexa managed to convince Coach to give her a couple of hours of freedom. She didn't even argue with the ridiculously early curfew Coach set, because she knew if she did, Coach might change her mind about the whole thing. 

Lexa went back to her room and showered, changing into clothing that didn't have the school logo emblazoned on it and texted Costia to let her know she was free. She asked her to pick a place for them to meet because Costia knew the area and Lexa didn't, and a few minutes later she got a text back with an address. Lexa quickly typed it into Google Maps and found it was within easy walking distance, so she grabbed her backpack (the closest thing she owned to a purse), which had been emptied of everything but the essentials, and stepped out into the hall.

She ran into Clarke in the lobby and froze like she'd been caught in the act of sneaking out or something. 

"Going to meet Costia?" Clarke asked, taking in her damp hair, which she'd left loose for once, and street clothes. 

Lexa nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. 

"Cool," Clarke said. "Have fun." 

"You too," Lexa said, even though Clarke was just going to her room. Probably. Unless she had plans too, but with who? Doing what? Hanging out with their teammates maybe. Probably. And they were all going to notice she was missing, and someone – probably Anya – would remind them that this was where Costia went to school, and she wasn't going to hear the end of it any time soon.

She forced herself back into motion, brushing past Clarke close enough to touch but not quite touching, reaching to push open the door.

"Wait!" Clarke said, grabbing at her sleeve but her fingers didn't connect so she just got a fistful of air. "Will I—will you be back tonight?"

Lexa snorted. She couldn't help it. "You think Coach would let me out from under her thumb for more than a few hours? I have to be back by eight."

"Oh," Clarke said. "Okay." She looked down, then back up again, and if Lexa didn't know better she might think Clarke was nervous. "Will you come find me? When you get back? If you want to," she added hastily. "If you'd rather be alone..."

"I'll come find you," Lexa said, but instantly wished she could take it back because she didn't know what was going to happen with Costia – not like _that_ , just... she didn't know how the conversation was going to go, and maybe she _would_ want space to process. Or whatever. 

There was no mistaking the relief in Clarke's eyes, though, and Lexa knew it didn't matter what state she was in when she got back – she wasn't going to fuck that up.

* * *

"Hey," Costia said, pulling Lexa into a hug and brushing her lips against her cheek. One would think she was the one who had spent some of her formative years in Europe rather than Lexa, with her propensity for cheek-kissing, but at least Lexa knew it didn't mean anything. 

"No Gaia?" Lexa asked. 

Costia fixed her with the same look she'd given her so many times, the one that said, 'Really, Lexa? You're an idiot.' "No Gaia," she confirmed. "Hungry?"

"Always," Lexa said, and followed her into the restaurant, where they were led to a quiet booth in the back. Based on the décor and assembled crowd, it wasn't the sort of place that was generally frequented by college students, which might have been part of why Costia chose it. The fact that there were multiple vegetarian options on every page of the menu was almost certainly the deciding factor, though, and it reminded Lexa why they were still friends: Costia cared about her. 

They made small talk while they waited for their food to arrive, catching up on things they'd forgotten or never thought to text. Although it stung a little any time Costia mentioned Gaia, it wasn't jealousy Lexa felt, but envy. She didn't want to take Costia from Gaia; she was glad they were happy together, and genuinely wished them the best. 

She just wished she could have it too.

"All right," Gaia said, after their food arrived and Lexa had taken the sharpest edges off her hunger. "Spill." 

"There's nothing—" Lexa started, but stopped at Costia's glare. "It's... complicated. Or not. I don't know. It's only complicated if I make it complicated. I just—"

"Made it complicated?" Costia asked. "What happened?"

Lexa sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, then took a sip of water, and then another few deep breaths before she was able to force words – any words – past her lips. "You know how it is," she said. "How we are—I am. The superstitions, the rituals. It was – is – you were—"

"I know," Costia said, looking down at her plate. "And that was part of the problem. It was a ritual, not a relationship."

The words stung like a slap, even though she knew they weren't meant as one. Costia was only saying out loud what they both knew was – had been – true. "I'm sor—" 

Costia looked up, shook her head. "Don't. You don't need to apologize. We were both in it... and then we weren't." She gave Lexa a sad smile, and was it wrong to take comfort in knowing that the end of them still hurt Costia just a little bit too? That Lexa wasn't alone in still grieving what they'd once had? "But we're not here to talk about us, are we?"

"No," Lexa said. "But... that's where it starts." 

Costia watched her expectantly, rolling her eyes just a little when Lexa put another bite of salad in her mouth to have an excuse not to talk, buying herself a few minutes to figure out the best way to say it. But she was no closer to figuring that out by the time she swallowed than she had been before, and finally she just gave up and said it. All of it, starting with the night in the hotel and finishing with waking up in bed with Clarke that morning. 

When she finished, Costia closed her mouth, which had been hanging open almost from the beginning. She shook her head, her lips twitching, and Lexa couldn't tell if she was about to tear into her or burst out laughing. Neither would surprise her. In the end, though, Costia looked at her with something that was uncomfortably close to pity and said, "You really like this girl, don't you?"

"No!" Lexa said. "I mean yes, but no! She's my friend – one of my best friends. But the rest of it is just... business. She's just—she's straight! She has – had – a boyfriend!"

"Bisexuality _is_ a thing, Lexa," Costia pointed out, her tone again treading the line between amusement and irritation.

"I know," Lexa said. "But you know sex before a game is the kiss of death and—" She jumped when Costia's head literally banged against the table, scrambling to slide out of her seat to check on her when Costia looked up.

"Lexa. You are _not_ this stupid. If we weren't already broken up, I would dump you right now because that's the dumbest shit I've ever heard."

Their server came over to the table with a pasted-on smile and a look in their eyes like they'd just been asked to walk into the lion's den wearing a meat suit. "Everything all right here?" they asked.

Costia smiled. "Sorry. I just got a little dramatic. I'll be more careful," she promised, and they scurried away. As soon as she looked back at Lexa, though, the smile was gone. "For real, Lexa. Do you like her—" She stopped, gritted her teeth. "Are you _attracted to her_ or not?"

"I can't fuck up what we have," Lexa said. Which didn't answer the question, but they both already knew the answer anyway. 

"Then you need to stop fucking her," Costia said. 

"I'm not fucking her," Lexa said, hating the way it hollowed her out even thinking about it. "She won't let me touch her." She'd said that, hadn't she? She'd told Costia that any time she offered, or tried, Clarke gently but firmly denied her advances.

Costia heaved a sigh that was halfway to a snarl. "Then you need to stop letting her fuck you. You're only going to end up breaking your own heart." 

Lexa stabbed at her salad, lifting a bite to her mouth and chewing it viciously. She wasn't sure how she'd expected this conversation to go, but she'd hoped Costia would understand. She'd hoped she would be able to offer some reassurance that Lexa wasn't making a mess of the best thing that had happened to her in a long time... maybe ever. Instead she was telling her the exact opposite, and Lexa didn't want to hear it. Even if – especially if – Lexa feared she might be right. 

"People do shit like this all the time," Lexa said, her words muffled by the food she was struggling to swallow. "It's not a big deal."

"Sure," Costia said. " _People_ do. But you're not people, Lexa. You're you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lexa demanded, nearly choking on the mouthful of water she'd chugged to try and force everything down. 

"It means I know you, Lex. I know when you do something, you do it 110%. You have no off switch and zero chill. When you're in, you're all in. Why would Clarke be any different?" 

"She just is," Lexa snapped. "She's special." 

Costia threw up her hands. "Exactly!" 

Lexa frowned, because Costia was agreeing with her, but she was pretty sure they were still on opposite sides of this argument. Was it an argument? It was more than a conversation and not rational enough to be a debate. 

Costia leaned back like she needed to physically distance herself from the conflict, even though there was nowhere to go. "Look, Lexa. Maybe at first it was just 'taking care of business' or whatever you want to call it. But when I asked if she was your girlfriend and you said she wasn't, you were almost in tears. You didn't want to talk about it where anyone you knew might see or hear. I refuse to believe that was only because you didn't want to ruin the illusion that we're still together, which – seriously, Lex? That's fucked up." 

Lexa pushed her plate away, her appetite gone. "I know," she said, deflating like a pricked balloon. "You think I don't know?"

"So fix it. Tell your teammates we broke up. Hell, you can even say it happened here if that makes it easier," Costia said. "And tell Clarke you don't just want to be 'friends with benefits'. Tell her—"

"I can't," Lexa said. "Not now. Not when things are so good. Maybe once the season is over—"

Costia sighed. "That's really what it all comes down to for you, isn't it?" she asked. "It's always about the game, the season, the team. What about _you_? What about what _you_ want?"

"That _is_ what I want," Lexa said. "Soccer's the only constant I've ever had. I'm not going to blow it because I may or may not have a crush on a straight—"

"She is _not_ straight," Costia interrupted. "There is no way she's straight. No straight girl would ever crawl into bed with another girl and stick her hand down her pants, no matter _what_ was on the line."

"On a friend, then," Lexa said. "I'm not throwing away our shot—" Costia snorted and Lexa ignored her. "—at going all the way—" Costia was actively snickering now, and Lexa picked a chickpea off her salad and threw it at her, instantly regretting it because she'd wasted a perfectly good chickpea. "Shut _up_ ," she growled. "I'm not ruining things because my head and my heart got their signals crossed. Okay? I know you're trying to help but—" Lexa shook her head. "I have to do this my way."

"Even when it's the hard way?" Costia asked. 

"Trust me," Lexa said, "telling her would be harder."

"Okay," Costia said, in the way she had where she was basically saying the exact opposite, or at the very least heavily implying it. 

Lexa picked up her fork again, shoveling more salad into her mouth because she needed fuel for the game tomorrow. "Enough about me," she mumbled. "Let's talk about you."

* * *

By the time she got back to the hotel (well before the curfew she'd been set), all Lexa wanted to do was curl up in her room and sleep... except she'd promised Clarke she would come find her, and if she went to bed now, she would probably wake up at 4 am and not be able to get back to sleep, and what would she do with all the hours between then and their game at eleven? 

She could hear her teammates as soon as she got off the elevator, which probably meant they were being too loud, but she wasn't in the mood to be accused of being a killjoy so she decided Coach could deal with it. She slipped her keycard into the slot on the door and pulled it out, waiting for the light to flash before shoving it open. She flipped the little bar that was meant to keep the door from being able to be opened too far so it instead became a doorstop that prevented it from closing completely and quickly changed into pajamas, collapsing into bed. She shifted around, trying to get comfortable, and tapped out a message to Clarke.

 **Lexa:** I'm back.

A response came barely a second later.

 **Clarke:** You okay?

A simple question, or it should have been. 

It wasn't. 

She could pretend it was, but she didn't want to lie. Especially not to Clarke who could – and would – see right through her. She pinched the bridge of her nose, shoving her fingers into the corners of her eyes as if that would stop the flow of tears.

 **Lexa:** I don't even know.

 **Clarke:** I'll be right there.

Then, a moment later:

 **Clarke:** Unless you'd rather be alone?

 **Lexa:** No way.

The last thing she wanted was to be left with only her thoughts for company. 

**Clarke:** You want me to grab anything?

 **Lexa:** I only want

She backspaced. 

**Lexa:** I only need 

She erased it again.

 **Lexa:** Nope.

She heard footsteps in the hall, and a soft knock at the door even as Clarke pushed it open and called out, "Knock knock."

"Who's there?" Lexa called back, smiling for the first time that night. 

"Orange," Clarke said.

Lexa groaned. "Get in here." 

Clarke's head poked around the corner, grinning. "Orange you glad I didn't say banana?" She started toward the bed, then stopped. "Do you want me to close the door?"

Lexa's stomach clenched. "Not right now," she said, trying to keep her tone light and only marginally succeeding. 

Clarke came all the way in, and Lexa could see her eyes flicking from the bed Lexa was sprawled across and the empty one next to it. Before Clarke was forced to make a choice, Lexa sat up and scooted over, making space beside her. 

"You want to talk about it?" Clarke asked as she settled against the pillows.

Lexa shook her head. 

"Do I need to kick her ass?" Clarke asked. "Because I will. Probably literally, because I have no idea how to throw a punch, but if I just imagine her butt is a soccer ball..."

Lexa snorted, leaning to press her shoulder into Clarke's. "You don't need to kick her ass," she said. 

Clarke looked dubious, but she shrugged. "The offer remains open if you change your mind." 

"Thanks." Lexa tipped her head, letting it rest against Clarke's for a second, feeling calm wash through her even though Clarke was the source of all of her angst to begin with. 

Only... was she? Was Clarke the problem, or was it Costia's twisting of the situation into something it wasn't? (Or maybe it was, a little, but it was more than that, too... or less, depending on how you looked at it.) Maybe she'd let Costia convince her that there was a problem that didn't actually exist. She'd (almost) never questioned the arrangement before – why start now? Why fix what wasn't broken? 

"You want to watch a movie or something?"

"Sure," Clarke said. "Do you have your laptop, or...?"

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "I didn't bring it," she said. "I thought about it, but—"

"You decided you weren't going to do any homework anyway so why bother?" Clarke grinned. "I knew I should have grabbed my tablet. Be right back." She got up and left the room, and Lexa's phone chimed with a text a minute later.

 **Clarke:** Might take a little longer than expected – 10 mins? Promise it'll be worth it.

 **Lexa:** Okay.

She tried not to obsess over what Clarke would possibly think would make it worth the wait, switching over to a game on her phone to pass the time. When Clarke returned, she was accompanied by a pint of ice cream... and Luna. 

"I found her wandering in the hallway," Clarke said. "Can we keep her?"

Lexa snorted, and Luna rolled her eyes. "Already she forgets she's the one we took in as a stray," Luna said. "Mind if I join you?" 

_A little,_ Lexa thought, but she didn't say it, just shook her head. "We're going to watch a movie."

"Clarke said," Luna told her, fluffing the pillows and arranging them behind her. "How was Costia?"

"It's complicated," Lexa said. "I'd rather not—"

"Lexa is troubled," Clarke interrupted. "She needs dessert." She scooped the ice cream into two bowls she'd acquired somewhere, handing one to Lexa and one to Luna. She kept what was left for herself, eating straight out of the container. "You're not going to be able to see from there," Clarke pointed out, her words garbled around the spoon sticking out of her mouth. 

"Oh, right," Luna said. She grabbed the pillows and came over, and the three of them squashed together on the bed, watching the small screen of Clarke's tablet propped at their feet. 

By the time the movie ended, the sugar rush from the ice cream had worn off and their early wake-up call and 90 minutes of running caught up with them and they were all yawning. Luna hugged them both and kissed Lexa's cheek, then saw herself out. 

"You want me to go?" Clarke asked. 

"Only if you want to," Lexa said. 

Clarke was still for a second, then shook her head. "Not yet." 

"Okay." 

They got ready for bed without talking about it (Lexa didn't know what Clarke brushed her teeth with, but her breath was minty when she returned to bed so she must have figured something out). Lexa settled under the covers, and Clarke curled against her back like she usually did, one arm snaking under the pillows, the other resting on Lexa's hip, her fingers brushing Lexa's belly as she found the hem of her shirt.

Lexa swallowed. "You know you don't have to do this, right?" she whispered.

"I know," Clarke whispered back, her breath brushing Lexa's ear and sending a shiver through her. A pause during which neither of them moved, but Lexa could feel Clarke's breasts pressed against her back as she sucked in a breath. "You know you don't either, right?"

"I know," Lexa echoed. 

"Mmkay," Clarke said, her lips against the back of Lexa's neck, just where it met her shoulder, and Lexa melted back against her, sighing as Clarke's hand slipped into her shorts.

* * *

When Lexa woke up in the morning, minutes before her alarm, Clarke was still there, her hand still tucked into Lexa's shorts, and Lexa couldn't remember if they'd finished what they started or if they'd fallen asleep halfway there. It didn't matter; it wasn't really about that anymore. 

She slid her hand down Clarke's arm and laced their fingers together, drawing it up to her heart and pressing it there, brushing Clarke's knuckles against her lips. 

Clarke stirred, then settled, and Lexa closed her eyes and let herself enjoy the last few minutes they had before their return to reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick reminder to check out my [Will Write For Votes](https://ironicsnowflake.tumblr.com/post/631276517801984000/will-write-for-votes) offer! (Yes, there are options for those who can't vote in the upcoming US election.)


	7. Chapter 7

Lexa ignored the smirks and sidelong looks she got at breakfast, knowing they were because everyone knew she'd been out with Costia. Clarke had managed to sneak back into her own room before anyone noticed that morning, so _that_ secret was still safe. Let them think what they wanted... even though she'd promised Costia she would tell them they'd broken up. Now wasn't the time; she didn't want to throw anyone off their game. 

When Coach handed her the captain's armband before the game, though, she couldn't ignore it, or hide her surprise. She looked not at Coach, but at Anya, searching for an explanation. They were co-captains, but Anya was older, with more experience, and Lexa generally only got the armband if Anya wasn't playing... or it was a game whose outcome was already pretty much a foregone conclusion. Which wasn't a commentary on Lexa's skills at leading her team; it was just the way things were. 

"I thought you might want a chance to show off for your girlfriend," Anya said with a wink, and for one wild, bone-chilling second, Lexa thought she was referring to Clarke before realizing no, she meant Costia. 

"I don't know if she's coming," Lexa said. "To the game," she added quickly when she saw Anya's lips twitch. Costia hadn't mentioned it, and Lexa hadn't asked. They hadn't parted on _bad_ terms, exactly, but things had felt shakier between them than they ever had before. Even when they'd both known their relationship was coming to an end, they'd been friends. Now...

"Well just in case," Anya said. "Anyway, I'm not going to be around forever. Might as well let you get some experience while I'm still here to tell you you're doing it wrong." She grinned, and reached to ruffle Lexa's hair. Lexa ducked, aiming a light jab at Anya's ribs. Anya crumpled sideways even though Lexa's knuckles barely skimmed her jersey, and they both laughed. 

Lexa slid the elastic band up her arm, feeling it like a weight – the weight of responsibility, she guessed – pulling her down. She flinched when she felt something brush her arm, reaching up to swat whatever it was away... only to discover it was Clarke, adjusting the band so her sleeve was tucked in and it was even all the way around. "Sorry," she said. "It would have bugged me."

Lexa raised an eyebrow. "You know it's not going to stay like that, right?"

"I know," Clarke said. "But by then I'll be too occupied with other things to notice."

Lexa smiled, and Clarke smiled back, and they finished getting dressed and headed out to the field to warm up.

* * *

Clarke glanced up at the stands as they jogged around the field, and felt something hot and ugly bubble up in her chest when she saw Costia was there, waving a little Polis pennant when she saw Clarke was looking. A gift from Lexa, no doubt... but a recent one? Or was it from back when they were still together? 

Lexa hadn't wanted to talk about what had gone down between them last night, and Clarke hadn't tried to make her. She'd just offered what comfort she could: movies and ice cream and what had ended up being more cuddle than climax, because Lexa's squirming had apparently just been her getting comfortable before her sighs turned to snores. 

(She didn't really snore, thankfully. Her ex had snored, and there had been more than one night that Clarke had been tempted to press a pillow to his face just to get some relief from the noise.) 

Clarke forced herself to look away and catch up with Lexa before she noticed Clarke had fallen behind, coming up beside her and jostling against her, not completely unintentionally. Lexa looked over and grinned, nudging her back with her elbow before making a little space between them again. 

After they finished warming up, Coach gathered them all in to give them their final marching orders, then they jogged out to take their places on the field. They'd been warned that this was likely to be one of the toughest games of their season. Apparently Northern had beaten Polis enough times at critical points in past seasons that there was something of a rivalry... or maybe just a grudge. They'd been preparing for it with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, and the tension was palpable as they waited for the starting whistle. 

Clarke's heart thudded as she lurched into motion when its shrill sound split the air, trying to anticipate which way things were going to go. Coach had told them to come out strong and put Northern on their heels as quickly as possible, so when Lexa charged forward, she followed. 

It was a battle from the first minute, and Lexa morphed from the gentle, somewhat introverted girl Clarke knew to a commander marshalling her troops. The transformation was both awesome and slightly intimidating, and there were moments when Clarke had to remind herself to pay attention to the opposing team and not let herself get caught up watching her teammate.

They were tied at the half and couldn't seem to gain any traction in the game until a set piece twenty minutes in put them up one point... only to have Northern equalize a few minutes later because fatigue was starting to set in and their defense needed support they weren't able to get there in time to provide. 

"It's okay!" Lexa called, like she could read Clarke's mind and knew she was already berating herself for not being fast enough. "Shake it off. We got this!" 

Clarke nodded, muttering, "We got this," and silently vowing not to let anyone past her without a hell of a fight. The rest of the team seemed to have come to a similar resolve, and they forced Northern back out of their side of field and into their own, putting them on the defensive. 

The minutes ticked by, and Clarke's legs burned and her lungs felt scraped raw from sucking wind for the last... she didn't even know how many minutes. Too many and not enough, and there was a part of her that was silently begging for Coach to pull her out and sub fresh legs in, but—

"CLARKE!" 

Lexa's voice snapped her back into the moment, and she saw the ball coming her way with a Northern player right behind it. They were on a collision course if one of them didn't move, and Clarke made the decision then and there that it wasn't going to be her. For a second it looked like it wasn't going to be her opponent, either, and Clarke wondered if this was what American football players felt like as they braced for impact. At the last second, though, the girl from Northern tried to dodge around her, and Clarke deftly stripped the ball from her feet and began charging back the opposite way...

... only to discover as she neared the goal that she was alone. Somehow, she'd managed to get past everyone, which never happened. Ever. No flags had gone up and the whistle hadn't blown so she was still on-side, probably, but there was no one to pass to, no one to take the shot, and Clarke wasn't a goal-scorer. She'd led her high school team in assists, but in all four years on the field, she'd scored maybe a half dozen goals herself. Maybe. What had happened yesterday was the exception, not the rule. She wasn't in it for the glory, she just loved the game, and—

"GO!" Lexa yelled. Because there was an opening, but it was quickly closing, and if she hesitated the opportunity would be gone and—

Clarke planted her foot and took the shot, watching it soar up and up and it was going to go over. She'd miscalculated and it was going to go high and the game would end in a tie and—

The ball dropped. At the last second it dropped, slotting in between the crossbar and the goalkeeper's outstretched hands, and hit the back of the net.

Clarke stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth hanging open because it had gone in. She'd scored. With less than a minute left on the clock, she'd scored and—

Arms closed around her, lifting her off her feet for a second before setting her down again, and she felt hands slapping her back and shoulders and a few on her head, everyone cheering... for her. The game wasn't over yet, but for a few seconds time stopped as her team surrounded and embraced her before scattering again to run out the clock. 

When the whistle blew, the final score was 4-3, and Clarke was in the books as having scored the game-winning goal. She found herself swarmed again, with so many people grabbing and jumping on her she nearly collapsed under the pressure. (The fact that her legs felt like Jell-O didn't help.) When the scrum finally broke up, Lexa's arm stayed around her, holding her up, and Clarke leaned into it. Her face ached from grinning as she pressed it into Lexa's shoulder, not caring that it was soaked with sweat. 

"You did good," Lexa said softly. 

"So did you," Clarke said. 

" _I_ didn't score," Lexa said. 

Clarke looked up at her. "No, but you were... everything a captain should be. You were awesome." 

Lexa's cheeks flushed, and Clarke didn't think it was just from the heat. Lexa lifted her shoulder and let it fall. "Just doing my job," she said. 

"Brilliantly," Clarke said. "Take the compliment, Lex."

Lexa stuck out her tongue, and Clarke laughed, and for a second...

"Lexa!"

* * *

Lexa jerked at the sound of her name, her head snapping up to try and locate the source. She saw Costia jumping up and down, waving a pennant and her arms to get her attention and felt her stomach sink. She hadn't even realized she was here. 

She felt Clarke's fingers clench in the back of her jersey even as she seemed to deflate in Lexa's arms. When Lexa looked back at her, her smile had disappeared completely. Lexa felt her throat tighten, hating Costia for ruining the moment they'd been having... even if Lexa wasn't sure what kind of moment it had been, or was going to be. 

"You should go see what she wants," Clarke said, pulling away but not quite letting go. 

"Just to congratulate us, I'm sure," Lexa said, even though she wasn't. "Come with me."

Clarke gave her a look Lexa couldn't read but she was pretty sure there was a healthy dose of, 'Are you fucking kidding me?' in it. Which was strange, because Clarke had been the one to follow her when she went to greet Costia yesterday... but maybe last night had changed something? 

"I might need you to kick her ass, after all," Lexa joked. 

It got her the barest hint of a smile from Clarke, and something in her unknotted, allowing her to breathe again. 

"I _am_ all warmed up..." Clarke said, her tone teasing, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that said she wouldn't hesitate to do what needed to be done if Costia got out of line. 

Lexa grinned and shifted to start the jog over to where Costia was still waving, but Clarke didn't budge. Lexa's smile faltered as she looked back and saw Clarke's mulish expression. "If you think for _one second_ that I am moving at anything faster than a leisurely stroll, you've got another think coming," she said. 

Lexa threw back her head and laughed and threw her arm around Clarke's shoulders. "Leisurely stroll it is," she said, and they made their way slowly across the field. 

Costia's arms finally dropped, and her expression was somewhere between amused and bemused. "It's fine," she called when they were still a few yards away. "I can just stand here all day. I don't have anything else to do." 

"We just ran for _ninety_ minutes," Lexa said. "Nine. Zero. When was the last time you ran ninety minutes? Or even nineteen?"

"That would be never," Costia said. "I don't run unless something's chasing me, and even then I seriously consider which is worse – getting caught or running." She grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "That was amazing, by the way," she said, turning her attention to Clarke. "Like... wow! It's moments like that that make soccer worth watching." 

"Thanks, I think," Clarke said dryly, but then she smiled, and it sent butterflies flapping in Lexa's stomach. She hoped she didn't end up regretting putting Clarke and Costia in each other's orbit. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but both of them had the power to blow her cover, and if they did...

"Costia! Hey!" A body appeared in the space between where Lexa and Clarke stood, still holding on to each other, and where Costia stood in the bottom row of the stands, and for a second Lexa thought it must be a friend of Costia's from school before she realized no, it was Luna, and her heart lurched and her stomach clenched and she really thought she might be sick.

Because somehow Lexa had forgotten that Luna knew Costia. Never mind the fact that they'd gotten together junior year, when Luna had been at their school as an exchange student, and never mind the fact that it had been Luna who had finally knocked Lexa over the head with the fact that Costia was (rather shamelessly) flirting with her, and maybe she should _do_ something about it. The three of them had never had quite the same Three Musketeers vibe that Lexa shared with Luna and Clarke, but Costia and Luna had been friendly... and maybe still were. 

"It's good to see you!" Costia said, reaching for and receiving a hug. "It's been so long!" 

They chatted for a moment, small talk of the variety that one makes when one isn't all that interested in the answers – or at least that's how Lexa read it – before Luna turned to them, wedging herself between them and wrapping an arm around each of their necks. "Coach sent me to find you," she said. 

Lexa had never been so relieved to be summoned to a team meeting in her life. "Sorry, Cos," she said. "We've gotta go." 

"Should I—" Costia started to say, then stopped herself. "I should be getting back to school anyway," she said, and maybe Lexa was reading into things, but her smile seemed a little forced, and she sounded... disappointed? Even though there was no reason for her to be. Maybe she just wanted them to part on better terms than they had the night before. 

Lexa extricated herself from her friends and held out her arms, and Costia slid into them, hugging her tight enough that Lexa's ribs creaked. "It's okay," Lexa reassured her. "I'm okay."

"Just... think about what I said," Costia murmured, her breath brushing Lexa's neck and sending a shiver through her... old habits died hard, she guessed, but it mainly left her feeling cold despite the warmth of the embrace. "And you know where to find me if you need me. I don't... even if we don't see eye-to-eye, I don't want this to be what breaks us." 

Lexa nodded, unable to force any words past the sudden lump in her throat. "Thanks," she finally managed. "You too, y'know."

"I know," Costia said, finally relaxing her grip. 

"Have a safe trip back," Lexa said. 

"You too," Costia told her, and waved to Luna and Clarke as she headed off away from the field. 

" _Alles gut_?" Luna asked. 

" _Ja, alles gut,_ Lexa said. She put her arm back around Clarke and steered them toward the locker room, making sure to keep the pace no faster than a leisurely stroll.

* * *

Three games in as many days was at least one game too many, and by the time they packed up and loaded onto the bus to head home, Clarke wasn't sure she was ever going to be able to move without pain again. She'd been subbed out at halftime in the final game, but she was questioning Coach's decision to put her in at all. Not that she'd messed up, but it was going to take days to recover from this.

Her only consolation was that they didn't have another game for a week, and it was supposed to be an easy one. Clarke was glad, but she doubted she was the only one who felt like they'd been put through the wringer. She knew Lexa was feeling it; she'd passed out last night while Clarke was still in the bathroom, and despite being tempted - _very _tempted – to crawl in beside her, Clarke had decided discretion was the better part of valor and had gone back to own room... but not before tucking Lexa in and wishing her the sweetest dreams.__

__After seeing her duffel safely stowed under the bus, Clarke hauled herself up the bus steps, groaning as her quads (and calves and hamstrings...) protested. She edged down the aisle, heading for her seat – or the seat she'd come to think of as hers, the one beside Lexa – and found it was already occupied._ _

__Clarke's eyes shot to Lexa, who looked up at her with a smile and a slight shrug, like she wanted to apologize but wasn't actually going to say the words. Clarke forced a smile back and collapsed into the empty set of seats across the aisle and one row back, and jammed her earbuds into her ears but didn't actually turn any music on._ _

__They were soon underway, and the road noise made it hard to hear what was being said in hushed tones... and the fact that the conversation was being conducted in a language Clarke didn't speak (except a handful of words frequently shouted on the soccer field when Luna got amped up and forgot which language she ought to be speaking) made it impossible to understand._ _

__Irritation prickled along her spine, and another green-eyed monster sunk its claws into her heart. It was a stupid, useless feeling, and an unwelcome one. Clarke tried to shove it down, but her eyes kept darting to the two of them, leaned in close, and she wanted to butt in like Luna had with the two of them the other night... except it had been Clarke who had invited her._ _

___Get it together, Griffin,_ she snapped at herself. _They're friends. They've been friends for years. You don't own Lexa, and she doesn't owe you anything... even a seat on the bus. Just get over it.__ _

__She slid over to the seat by the window and turned some music on, loud, to drown out everything including her own thoughts. She closed her eyes so she wouldn't be tempted to look at them, silently begging for sleep to make the trip shorter._ _

__She jerked when someone nudged her shoulder, and clawed her earbuds from her ears when she saw Luna's mouth moving. "Huh?"_ _

__"I said, she's all yours," Luna repeated with an amused smirk, gesturing to the now empty seat beside Lexa._ _

__For the space of a single breath, Clarke was tempted to tell her she was fine where she was... but she was holding on to enough lies and half-truths, and what was the use of pretending? "Thanks," she mumbled, and gathered up her stuff, sliding across the aisle and into the seat next to Lexa, still warm from Luna's body even with the air conditioning on full blast._ _

__"Hey," Clarke said._ _

__Lexa glanced at her, and Clarke saw her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, and there was a balled-up tissue clenched in her fist. "Hey," she said, her voice froggy with tears._ _

__Clarke's jaw clenched, her teeth grinding, and she looked over at where Luna was settling into the seats Clarke had just abandoned, looking perfectly at peace, and—_ _

__"Clarke."_ _

__Lexa's voice in her ear, and her hand on Clarke's where it gripped the armrest so tight her knuckles were white, brought her back. She sucked in a breath through her nose and exhaled slowly, letting the wave of sudden fury go with it._ _

__"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked. Lexa looked down, away, and shook her head._ _

__Clarke nodded and got out her tablet, loading up their most recent binge. Once she was sure Lexa had her headphones in, she pressed play._ _

__After a minute, she felt Lexa relax, slumping against her, and a minute later her hand found Clarke's, lacing their fingers together in the space between their legs. It took a little longer for her head to tip onto Clarke's shoulder... and Clarke tried to ignore the way her belly fluttered when it did._ _

__In the brief pause between episodes, Lexa whispered, "She knows."_ _

__It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did Clarke scrambled to hit pause, jostling Lexa's head from where it had been nestled. With two words, the almost-pleasant butterflies had been replaced with the acid burn of adrenaline. "About... us?" Clarke asked, and she hoped Lexa didn't hear the tiny sliver of hope that undercut the barely suppressed panic in her voice._ _

__"No!" Lexa said. "No, not about... us." She pressed her lips together, the lower one catching between her teeth and sliding free, and it was unfair – no, more than unfair, it was _cruel_ , because it made Clarke want to touch her lips, to trace their curve with the tips of her fingers and the tip of her tongue and—_ _

__"Costia," Lexa whispered. "She knows about Costia. She could tell something was off and... she figured it out. That we're not together anymore."_ _

__"Oh," Clarke said. "I guess it was bound to come out sometime."_ _

__Lexa nodded, not meeting her eyes. "She said she won't tell anyone. Everyone. She said it's mine to tell, or not. She said..." Lexa shrugged._ _

__"She said what?" Clarke asked. "Do I need to kick her ass, too?"_ _

__The corners of Lexa's lips curved up as she shook her head. "No."_ _

__"Because I will," Clarke said. "I'll—"_ _

__Lexa squeezed her hand and shook her head again. "I know you would," she said. "But it's okay. I'm okay." She looked down at their clasped hands, their interlocking fingers, and it looked like she was going to say more, her lips parting... but then she closed them again and reached to press play._ _

__Clarke's fingers itched to stop the video again, wanting to demand Lexa say whatever it was she'd been going to say. But maybe she hadn't known, or maybe she'd thought better of it, and Lexa didn't owe her anything, Clarke reminded herself. So she just grabbed her jacket and draped it over their laps, grateful for the plausible deniability the churning AC lent them as they cuddled just a little closer._ _

__When they finally arrived back at school, pulling apart was like separating a whole into two halves, and Clarke shivered at the sudden chill of not having Lexa pressed against her. She surreptitiously shook her hand, clenching and flexing her fingers to try to dispel the feeling of where Lexa's fingers no longer were. She felt eyes on her as she waited for her bag to be unloaded and turned to find Luna watching her, seeing too much. It was a useful skill on the soccer field – her ability to see and analyze players on the fly – but when that attention was focused on Clarke, it was discomforting and made her want to squirm out of her own skin._ _

___We need to be more careful,_ she thought, trying to beam it into Lexa's head, but Lexa had disappeared into her own world as soon as they'd peeled themselves away from each other, and she was far away now – too far for Clarke to reach with her imagined telepathy. _ _

__Clarke grabbed her bag and headed for the dorms, and Luna fell into step beside her. Clarke looked at her out of the corner of her eye, and Luna caught her at it. "You knew," Luna said. It wasn't a question._ _

__Clarke shrugged. "I was safe to tell. I had no investment in it."_ _

__Luna tipped her head, her lips working, then gave a single, quick nod. "Thank you," she said. "For helping her through the hurt."_ _

__Clarke shrugged again. "That's what friends do."_ _

__Luna raised an eyebrow, but didn't challenge her on it, and maybe she didn't know anything after all. Maybe she didn't suspect. Or maybe she did and she didn't care. Maybe she approved. Did it matter if she approved?_ _

___Yes,_ Clarke thought. _It matters._ But if Luna thought she knew there was something going on... what did she think it was, exactly? Did she know the truth, or did she think it was more than it was? _ _

__"This is me," Luna said when they got to her room, as if Clarke didn't know. "See you later?"_ _

__But it was late, and unless they ran into each other in the hall, they wouldn't see each other until tomorrow. "Good night," Clarke said instead, and continued down the hall to her own room, where Maya was already getting ready for bed._ _

__Clarke followed suit, tucking herself into bed and hoping her muscles would stop screaming long enough for her to fall asleep. She kept her phone tucked next to her pillow, set to vibrate so it wouldn't wake Maya up if it went off. Not that she expected it to, but..._ _

__The screen lit up and her mattress buzzed. Clarke snatched the phone up, squinting at the screen._ _

__**Lexa:** O went to Lincoln's. _ _

__A statement that was, or could be, an invitation. But there was no game tomorrow. There wasn't even practice. They were getting an actual, honest-to-god day off. Except classes, and Clarke didn't even want to think about those. At least she didn't have an 8 am..._ _

__Her phone buzzed again._ _

__**Lexa:** Can you come over?_ _

__Then a second later:_ _

__**Lexa:** Only if you want to._ _

__Then:_ _

__**Lexa:** Not for anything_ _

__**Lexa:** Just_ _

__Clarke finally tapped out a response._ _

__**Clarke:** I'll be right there._ _


	8. Chapter 8

Lexa sat on the edge of her bed, her contact case perched on one knee, which was a recipe for disaster (or at least wet pajama bottoms) but it didn't stop her from doing it altogether too often. She nearly poked herself in the eye when the door opened, even though Clarke had said she would be right over and she'd left the door cracked for exactly that reason.

"Careful," Clarke teased. "Pretty sure one of the prerequisites for playing on the national team is depth perception." 

"Ha ha," Lexa said. She finished taking out her contacts and put on her glasses so Clarke's face came back into focus... and then kind of wished she'd left the world soft and fuzzy around the edges, because she wasn't sure she wanted to see Clarke's face when Lexa said what she needed to say. 

Only... did she need to say it? Costia said she needed to say it, but Costia didn't know them. Costia didn't even really know her anymore. She knew what Lexa had told her, and the assumptions she'd made about what Lexa had told her, and she'd filtered that through her own thoughts and feelings, what she would and wouldn't want if she was in a similar situation (not that she would ever get herself into this kind of mess), and...

"Everything all right?" Clarke asked, closing the door and locking it, then taking a step closer. Lexa saw her wince as she put her foot down, and all thoughts of confronting her about anything went out the window. 

"Are _you_ all right?" she asked. "You're limping."

"I'm just sore," Clarke said. "Aren't you?"

"A little," Lexa admitted, which was the understatement of the year. She felt like a horse that had been rode hard and put away wet... if that was the right expression for what it felt like when you put your body through the equivalent of three 10Ks in three days, with added tackles – both giving and receiving – and the occasional headbutt to an airborne projectile. Her bruises had bruises and muscles she had only read about in anatomy texts were making their presence known for the sole purpose of complaining about the abuse. "A lot," she admitted, and Clarke gave her a crooked smile of commiseration. "You can sit," she offered. 

"I'm afraid if I do, I won't get back up," Clarke said. 

_Would that be so bad?_ Lexa wondered. But fitting two of them in a space that was barely comfortable for one wasn't going to do either of them any favors. 

But then Clarke sat anyway, easing herself back on the mattress until her back hit the wall. She grabbed one of Lexa's many fleece throws (she liked to be comfy, okay?) and draped it over her lap. Lexa hesitated, then joined her, thinking she might just get out her laptop and they could watch a movie together and call it a night. 

"You never answered my question," Clarke said. 

Lexa sighed. "I know. I just... it's been a long day. A long weekend. I thought I would be able to just get in bed and sleep it off, but..." She shrugged. "Too many thoughts, I guess."

"You want to talk about it?" Clarke asked. She handed another of the throws to Lexa, and Lexa wrapped it around herself, pressing the plush fabric to her face and breathing in because she knew it was the one Clarke often used – it was printed like a soccer ball and she thought it was funny to curl up as tight as she could and drape it over herself, joking that she'd played so much soccer she'd turned into it – and it held traces of her soap and shampoo in its fibers.

Lexa shook her head. She _didn't_ want to talk about it... but she knew they needed to. She needed to be honest about what she was feeling, what their arrangement which had started out innocent and probably still was on Clarke's part was doing to her... all of it. Just put it all out there...

... and potentially ruin everything. 

There were still so many weeks to the season, and they were doing so well, and she didn't want to mess with that, but...

"Maybe—" She choked, cleared her throat. "Maybe we—" 

Clarke looked at her, waiting for her to wrap her tongue around the words and spit them out, but Lexa couldn't do it. She couldn't say it, so she tried to will the words into Clarke's head, to make Clarke say them instead so it would be her idea and then they would be on the same page and—

And Clarke clearly wasn't psychic, because she just kept looking at Lexa, fine lines etching themselves between her brows as interest turned to concern turned to worry... so maybe it was working after all.

"Whatever it is, Lex, just say it," she finally said. "Whatever it is... it can't be as bad as you think."

Lexa sucked in a breath, her throat trying to close up as her eyes started to sting, trying to dam the words inside her chest, trying to keep her from saying something she might regret. But she dug her nails into her palms hard enough that she knew there would be little crescent indents left behind and focused on those tiny points of pain instead of the all-over ache over her body, and spat them out:

"Maybe we shouldn't do this anymore."

* * *

The words should have been a relief, but they felt like a slap in the face, a punch to the solar plexus, and an overinflated ball to the thigh on a late autumn day all at once, and suddenly the pain that had just been outside of her flared from the inside as well. 

Clarke hadn't known what Lexa had been working herself up to say, what had been upsetting her, but somehow, that particular combination of words hadn't even occurred to her. She'd thought – assumed – it would be something about Costia. Maybe that seeing her had brought up old memories and old feelings, and Lexa had realized she was still in love with her, but of course Costia had moved on and it was too late. Maybe that seeing her with someone else had been painful, regardless of Lexa's own feelings, or lack thereof, for Costia. Maybe that she was afraid Luna wouldn't be able to keep the secret that they'd broken up, and she worried that not telling the team sooner would make them lose respect for her because she hadn't trusted them. 

Anything but that she didn't want Clarke anymore.

But then she'd never wanted Clarke in the first place. Not exactly. Clarke had been a means to an end, a source of stress relief, a natural sleep aid that she hadn't asked for but had accepted when offered. She'd even told Clarke more than once that she didn't have to keep doing it. Maybe there had been more behind it than Clarke had wanted to admit. Maybe Lexa had been subtly asking her to stop for a while, and she just hadn't picked up on it and—

"Oh," Clarke said. "Okay." 

Because what else could she say? She didn't have any right – or reason – to not be okay with it. 

But it still hurt, and she had to resist the urge to press her hand into the center of her chest to try to sooth the ache there that had joined every other part of her in screaming protest. 

"I just... I have to get over her, right?" Lexa said. "I need to find other ways to deal with stress and pre-game jitters. Right? Melatonin maybe, or... or something. I can't keep asking—"

"You didn't ask," Clarke interrupted. "I—" She swallowed the thick saliva that filled her mouth, the precursor to bile and the contents of her stomach as it started to churn. "I never even asked you. I just— I just—"

She scrambled from the bed, nearly falling on her face as her feet tangled in the damn blanket, and she skidded into the bathroom on hands and feet in an awkward bear crawl before collapsing in front of the toilet and heaving up the remains of her dinner. 

How had she never thought about that before? How had she never realized? She'd crawled into bed with Lexa that night and put her hand down her pants without so much as a by-your-leave and Lexa had let her do it, but—

"It's not like that," Lexa said, settling on the tile beside her and pressing a cool cloth to her cheek, then laying it across the back of her neck. "I know what you're thinking, and it was never like that. Everything you did – maybe it surprised me, but you didn't do anything I didn't want you to do. Ever." 

Clarke forced herself to meet Lexa's eyes, and even in the dim light that came in from the other room, because neither of them had taken the time to flip the switch for the bathroom light, they glowed green. Her gaze was intense and her expression serious, even as she gnawed on the inside of her lip. 

Clarke wanted to reach out and touch her, to draw it from between her teeth, but she couldn't touch her now. She wasn't sure she would able to touch her ever again. She closed her eyes to hold back her tears and drew in a shuddering breath, letting it out slowly. 

"I should go," she said, when she'd steadied herself enough that the words didn't come out shaky. She took the washcloth from her neck and used it to wipe her face, then pushed herself up on the edge of the toilet, feeling at least a hundred years old and maybe a thousand. 

Lexa stood up even more slowly, and when she met Clarke's eyes again, she looked so young, so lost and alone, and Clarke wanted to pull her into her arms and tell her it was okay, she was okay, _they_ were okay. But it wasn't. She wasn't. They weren't. 

"I ruined everything, didn't I." It wasn't a question, so Clarke didn't answer. She didn't want it to turn into a fight by telling Lexa the truth:

_No. I did._

* * *

Lexa watched Clarke go, watched her limp down the hall like a senior citizen instead of a college sophomore, ducking back into her room when Clarke glanced back so she didn't see her watching. She heard Clarke's door open, then close again before shutting her own, twisting the lock and sinking down against it, her back pressed into the corner and her knees pulled up to her chest, which she knew she would regret later when her knees locked in that position. 

Her phone was still next to her bed, which was probably a good thing because it kept her from calling Costia to scream at her that she'd been wrong, talking hadn't helped anything, it had actually made things worse and now she'd probably lost one of her best friends, and how was she going to explain to Luna why things were suddenly so awkward? Would they be able to keep it together enough to fake it on the field, or were they going to have the entire team and probably Coach on their backs and breathing down their necks, demanding to know why they suddenly couldn't get their shit together? 

They were better players than that... probably. But you could have two technically great players who had no chemistry, no spark, no connection, who were like oil and water on the field together, and when that happened, it didn't matter how good they were individually. 

She had to make it right, but how? She knew Costia would say she needed to tell Clarke the whole truth, but that wouldn't make either of them feel better, and it might make them feel worse. Because what the hell was Clarke supposed to do with the knowledge that Lexa needed to stop accepting the assistance she offered because it made her feel like maybe it was something more than it actually was? Clarke had already leapt to the conclusion that Lexa had never wanted it in the first place – where would her mind go if she knew Lexa actually wanted it too much, and that was the problem? 

What made it worse was the fact that she had no one else to she could talk to about it, because no one else knew. Luna was her best friend, and they told each other everything... until Lexa didn't tell her about the break-up. Which she'd said she understood, but Lexa had seen the hurt in her eyes. If Lexa told her she'd been keeping another secret, one that had a much more direct impact on her, at least potentially, would that add insult to injury? What if she felt like she had to pick sides now that there were sides to pick, and she turned against Clarke because she thought Clarke had hurt Lexa? Or... what if she turned against Lexa, thinking she'd used Clarke for her own selfish ends? 

_You've really fucking done it this time, Woods,_ she told herself, taking off her glasses as tears threatened to smear the lenses. _But you've made your bed. Now you have to lie in it._

But first she had to get back to it and climb in when she barely had the energy to scrape herself off the floor. The narrow mattress had never felt so vast and lonely as it did that night, and Lexa buried herself in the stupid soccer ball blanket and cried herself to sleep.

* * *

Clarke told herself she wasn't avoiding Lexa. She told herself Lexa wasn't avoiding her. They still saw each other at practice, and in the dorm, and at meals. They still smiled and chatted like nothing was wrong.

But overnight they'd become two pieces of a puzzle that looked like they should fit together, but didn't quite. They were just enough off from fitting that their edges rubbed a little too close in some places and gapped just a fraction in others. It was a close enough fit that at a glance, it didn't appear that anything was amiss, but if you really leaned in close, maybe got out your magnifying glass, you could see that the colors were just slightly off. 

It chafed like a damp sock or an ill-fitting shoe, rubbing and rubbing over the course of the week, raising a blister that got bigger and bigger and more and more painful until Friday night, when Clarke couldn't stand it any longer. She knew she had to pop the blister and drain it if it was ever going to heal. So she knocked on Lexa's door.

Lexa looked surprised to see her, and maybe a little wary, but she tried to smile. "Hey."

"Is Octavia here?" Clarke asked. 

"Oh," Lexa said, her not-quite-smile faltering. "No. She's—"

"Good," Clarke said. Before she would have just pushed past Lexa, flopped down on her bed, gotten out her tablet to queue up something for them to watch to relax until it was time to sleep. She was tempted to do it now, to test how broken they really were, but she'd already crossed too many lines, so she stayed firmly on her side of the threshold. "Can I come in?"

Lexa stepped back, and Clarke squeezed past, waiting to see what Lexa would do. After a moment, Lexa closed the door, and after a second's hesitation, locked it, but her hand lingered there like she was waiting to see if Clarke would tell her not to. 

"I hate this," Clarke said, finally letting out the words that had been on the tip of her tongue since Lexa had bumped into her (literally) on the way to breakfast Monday morning. "I never meant to make things weird between us, and somehow I did, and I hate it."

Lexa swallowed, her throat bobbing. "I hate it too," she said. "But you didn't make it weird. I did."

Clarke huffed out a breath. "Does it matter who did it? Maybe instead of blaming ourselves and beating ourselves up, maybe we should just... fix it." 

"How?" Lexa asked. "I don't—"

"Give me your hands," Clarke said, holding out her own, palms up. "Please."

Lexa's lips tipped downward, but she placed her hands in Clarke's, also palm up like Clarke was going to read them. Clarke let herself smile a little at that, then pressed Lexa's palms together like she was praying and kissed the tips of her middle fingers. "You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do," she said. "You didn't ask for anything I wasn't willing to give. Friends help friends all the time, right? And maybe this is an extreme example... but you needed someone, and I was there, and I care about you and—"

Lexa's eyes flicked up quickly, meeting Clarke's with a gaze so intense it felt like lasers beaming straight into the back of her brain, trying to extract any and every possible meaning under the words... and not finding what Clarke felt had to be incredibly obvious, so maybe she wasn't as much of an open book as she thought. 

"I just don't want to hurt you," Lexa said. "Or use you, or—"

"You're not," Clarke said, hoping she took it as the answer to both, even though it wasn't entirely true in either case. Lexa _was_ using her, but only in the way Clarke had offered herself up to be used. And really, Clarke was hurting herself by perpetuating the ritual, feeding the habit, whatever you wanted to call it, when she knew that it had long since gone beyond 'taking one for the team'. "You're not," she repeated, trying to convince them both. "It makes me feel better, too, knowing you're okay."

That much, at least, was true. Getting Lexa off was only part of it now. What came after... that was where Clarke took her comfort. That was where she found peace... once the desire to turn Lexa toward her and kiss her until they were both delirious from lack of oxygen wore off, anyway. 

"This – you – are the best thing that's happened to me since I got here," Clarke said, "and maybe even before that. I had friends growing up, but I never had anyone like you. And Luna and Roma and Anya and Raven and everyone... but especially you." 

"Clarke," Lexa said, slipping her hands from Clarke's grasp, and for a second Clarke thought she'd messed up, said too much, gone too far, but the softness in Lexa's gaze wasn't pity. When she opened her mouth, it wasn't to let Clarke down easy. That would come later, probably, if she ever realized how messy Clarke's feelings for her were. And then, for a fraction of a fraction of a second, she thought maybe Lexa _had_ realized, and maybe she wasn't going to let Clarke down easy after all, and—

And then Lexa's arms were around her, pulling her in, and she returned the embrace, pulling Lexa close until she could feel the beat of her heart through her chest and holding her so tight her ribs compressed before Clarke relaxed her grip just a little. Just enough. 

"I just want us to be us," Clarke said, her lips dragging against the skin of Lexa's throat, sending goosebumps racing across her shoulder and down her spine. "We get to define what that means. No one else." 

Lexa's head dropped and her breath, or maybe her mouth, brushed the shell of Clarke's ear as she whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

Lexa reached back, her fingers digging into Clarke's thigh as her hips jerked under Clarke's sure touch. She could feel Clarke grinding against her ass, and all Lexa wanted as she lay panting in her friend's arms was to roll over and kiss her... but she didn't. She couldn't. They got to define the terms of their relationship – friendship – and they didn't have to explain or justify themselves to anyone, but there were lines Lexa knew she – they – couldn't cross without causing more drama they couldn't afford. Especially not on a game night. So she just pulled Clarke's arms around her a little tighter, pulled up the blankets a little higher, and wished her good night.

"Good night," Clarke echoed, and Lexa wasn't sure, but she thought she might have felt the barest brush of Clarke's lips against the nape of her neck. She knew she shouldn't overthink it... and soon the wave of neurotransmitters Clarke had unleashed flooded her brain, and she didn't think at all. She just cuddled closer and let sleep take her. 

In the morning, half-asleep in the moments before her alarm went off, she almost forgot where she was and who she was in bed with. Thankfully she woke up just enough to realize what she was doing before her lips touched Clarke's, and she pulled back, sitting up and shaking Clarke awake. "Come on," she said. "Breakfast." 

"Five more minutes," Clarke grumbled, but she pushed herself upright in less than two. "You should wear your glasses more often," she said. "They're cute." 

Lexa wrinkled her nose. "Not exactly practical, though," she said. "We have practice so often I would have to carry my contacts with me everywhere anyway."

"Did you ever have those big chunky plastic safety glasses when you were a kid?" Clarke asked, her mouth tugging into a grin as she tried to imagine it.

"No," Lexa said. "I didn't get glasses until high school, and by then I was old enough they would let me try contacts without a fight." 

"Boo," Clarke said, sticking out her lower lip. "I bet you were one of those kids who never went through a gawky, awkward teenage phase, either." 

"If I did, all of the evidence is in Germany," Lexa said. "Safely hidden from your prying eyes."

"Unless I ask Luna," Clarke said. "I'm sure she would be—"

"Don't you dare!" Lexa said, shoving at her. 

"Try and stop me," Clarke said, rolling out of bed and scrambling for the door. 

Lexa planted herself in her path, channeling her best impression of Anya to block her from getting to her goal, grabbing Clarke around the waist when she tried to charge right through her, sending them both crashing into the dresser. 

A muffled shout of, "What the fuuuuuuck?" came through the wall, sending them into peals of laughter. Lexa refused to feel bad about it, though, since her neighbors on either side were all on the team and needed to be up, too. 

"Are we good?" Clarke asked, when they'd caught their breath again. 

"No," Lexa said, but before Clarke could question it, she pointed her finger at the ceiling and announced, "We're grrrrreat!" 

"Oh my god," Clarke groaned. "You did not just Tony the Tiger me."

"I did," Lexa said, "and I'll do it again. You won't know when, and you won't know where... but one day..."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "I can't even with you," she said. "Now that we've woken up the entire hall, are we going to breakfast?"

"I don't know," Lexa said. "Are you after me Lucky Charms?"

She hadn't considered how the words might be interpreted until they were already out of her mouth, and she saw Clarke coming to the same realization at the same time she did, and they both blushed and couldn't meet each other's eyes for a second, but they also couldn't look away. 

Clarke finally rolled her eyes again. "Come on, you dork," she said. She took Lexa's hand, lacing their fingers together and tugging her toward the door. A quick look up and down the hall told them they were first to drag themselves all the way out of bed, and when they got to the dorm lobby, the student who was supposed to be paying attention to the residents' comings and goings was drooling into his math book. They were halfway across the quad before they saw another living soul, and it was only then that Clarke's fingers slipped from Lexa's grasp.


	9. Chapter 9

They settled back into themselves, both on and off the field, and if anyone else had noticed anything amiss in the week they'd forgotten who they were and tried to be who they thought they were supposed to be, they didn't say anything to Lexa about it. 

The season continued, and despite being sore and stressed most of the time, Lexa had never been happier. She had her two best friends on either side of her every day, and the rest of her team surrounding her, and as their wins piled up, she started to let herself hope they might make it all the way this year. They'd made it to the NCAA tournament last year but flamed out in the quarterfinals despite their best efforts. Sometimes Lexa thought they'd pushed _too_ hard, wanted it too much, and forgotten how to have fun, and that had been their downfall. When you were shouting at your teammates in anger more than encouragement, you weren't helping anyone. 

"That's not happening this year," Lexa said, talking to the team in the locker room after practice. They had one of their toughest games of the season coming up, and Coach had been pushing them hard all week to get them ready. Some of them, especially the younger players (which she guessed she technically still was herself, but she'd been voted one of the team captains at the start of the season despite her age, with Coach's endorsement), were starting to fray at the edges. "We have to hold each other accountable, sure, but screaming at someone in the heat of the moment doesn't accomplish that. You think someone is consistently messing up on a particular skill? Offer to work with them on it after practice. Don't just get in their face yelling, 'What the BLEEP is wrong with you?!" 

Some of the girls laughed at Lexa censoring herself, although there was a slight nervous edge to it, and eyes shifting toward the player they all knew she was talking about without naming names. Octavia glared at the floor, and Lexa thought she might be trying to will a crack to open up beneath Lexa's feet to swallow her.

"We are a _team_. We're better when we work together. We all want to play our best – we all _need_ to play our best – but we need to remember, every single one of us, that it's not about us as individuals. As the cliché goes, there is no I in team." 

That earned her a few groans and eyerolls, and Lexa screwed up her face at them, which brought smiles back. 

"This isn't high school. We're not playing to impress recruiters. We've already made it here. Some of us dream of going further, to play professionally, and that's great. I'm with you. You know what's going to look really good when it comes time for the draft? Wins. A successful season. Maybe a title. And you know how we get there? _As a team._ We need to put our egos aside and always be thinking not about what's best for me, but what's best for _us_. And never forget that this is a game. It's supposed to be fun. So remember why you started playing, and why you keep playing. And let's go out there this weekend and do this." 

Lexa sat down again to a few whistles and claps, and felt hands on her back, light slaps and squeezes of her shoulder. She picked at the laces of her cleats, waiting for most of the team to disperse before she allowed herself to deflate, her shoulders slumping and her back curling like the strings that held her up had been cut.

A hand dropped down on her head, and Lexa wrinkled her nose because the smell of glove (which was a distinct – and distinctly stomach-churning – aroma) clung to it. She tipped her head back and Anya grinned down at her. "Good speech, Captain," she said.

Lexa groaned. 

"I mean it," Anya said. "You know I'm not good at that shit. So thanks for picking up the slack."

"It's the least I can do, right?" Lexa asked. "Your entire job is picking up our slack." Because in an ideal world, the field players would prevent the other team from ever getting to the point of getting a shot on goal. Which wasn't entirely realistic, but that was the whole reason defenders existed, right? 

"That's true," Anya said. "A really good game is one where I get to do what I do best: stand there and look pretty." She grinned. She nudged Lexa's head. "Keep it up, kid. You're gonna go far."

"Thanks," Lexa mumbled, and breathed a sigh of relief when Anya – or, more accurately, the smell of Anya's gloves – moved away. She finished getting changed and looked around to see if anyone had waited. Luna had a study group, or a group project, or something that involved interacting with non-athlete students who didn't care about the fact that all any of them wanted to do after practice was stuff their faces and collapse onto the nearest horizontal surface. 

But Clarke was still there. Because of course Clarke was still there. She smiled at Lexa, and Lexa smiled back. "Thanks," she said as she shoved her gear into her bag. "Dining hall, or...?"

"Dining hall," Clarke agreed, and they headed in that direction. Thankfully the route took them directly past their dorm, so they dropped off their bags on the way. When they got to the dining hall, there were several of their teammates already there, and a few waved to them, but no one extended an explicit invitation to join them (not that they needed to) so Lexa didn't feel bad when they found a little table to themselves off in one corner. 

"Don't you get tired of salad?" Clarke asked. 

Lexa shrugged. "The vegetarian options today weren't great," she said. 

Clarke wrinkled her nose. "What even was that mess with the peppers?" she asked. 

"No idea, but not anything I wanted to put in my body," Lexa said, her stomach clenching at the memory of the smell. She sucked in a breath and took a sip of water, trying to calm it before tearing into her meal. 

They were quiet for a while as they ate, but finally Clarke looked up, catching Lexa's eyes. "You really think we have a chance?" she asked. 

"Yes," Lexa said. "I really think we do." 

"If we can get – keep – our shit together."

"And contain our rogue elements," Lexa added. 

Clarke coughed. "Octavia."

"You said it, not me," Lexa said, grinning. "But yes. I just... I don't understand why she thinks she needs to carry the team or..." She shook her head. "Honestly, I don't even know _what_ she thinks, or _if_ she thinks. But she's not making any friends by not passing the ball even when someone else has a better shot."

"You could... talk to her?" Clarke suggested. 

"Because that has gone so well in the past," Lexa said. "Don't forget I also have to _live_ with her." 

"I haven't forgotten," Clarke said. "Is she going to be there Friday?"

"Yes," Lexa said. "The men have an away game." 

"Shit," Clarke said. "I mean, once Maya's out, she's out, but..." 

"It'll be okay," Lexa assured her. "I'll be okay."

But from the look on Clarke's face, Clarke didn't believe her. Which was fair, because Lexa wasn't sure she believed herself.

* * *

It wasn't late, but it was getting there, and with every passing minute, Clarke's nerves wound a little tighter. She thought about breaking into Maya's stash of melatonin – she could always replace it later, and better to beg forgiveness than try to wake her to ask permission – to knock herself out, but she didn't think it worked that way, exactly, and messing around with things she had no experience with the night before a game was potentially a recipe for disaster.

As was the fact that Lexa was probably also lying in bed, tossing and turning and praying for Octavia to fall asleep so she could...

Would she?, Clarke wondered. Would Lexa try to get herself off to get to sleep? They'd spent enough nights together – platonically with benefits – that she had to have a decent mental library to draw on for inspiration, right? 

But it wasn't the same. Clarke knew it wasn't – wouldn't be – the same, because wrapping her arms around a pillow and hugging it to her chest, burying her face in the pillowcase and pressing it tight into her hips, wasn't the same as holding Lexa, as pressing against her and feeling her arch and squirm. It wasn't the same as burying her face in her hair and breathing in the scent of her, or tasting the faint salt tang of her skin on her lips. 

_Shit._

When had she come to rely on their pre-game rendezvous as much as Lexa did? When had it become a ritual for her, too? 

And what the hell was she supposed to do now?

She wedged her hand between her thighs, rubbing herself through the boxers she wore to sleep in, trying to ease the ache there, but it didn't help, and honestly it felt a little bit wrong, because when she was with Lexa, she didn't get any relief... at least not until she went back to her own bed or room. Assuming she did so. 

She rolled over, hot and tense and tight, and picked up her phone. 

**Clarke:** Maya's asleep. 

A response popped up a second later.

**Lexa:** O's not.

**Clarke:** I meant you could come here. If you wanted.

**Lexa:** I know. But she would notice I was gone.

Right. Clarke sighed. 

**Clarke:** Are you okay?

_Because I'm not. I'm not even close to okay. And I don't know if I want you to say you are or you aren't. I don't know which will feel better... or worse._

Which was so fucked up. She ought to want Lexa to be okay. That ought to be what made her feel good, put her at ease... allowed her to sleep. But there was a part of her – and not nearly as small a part of her as she would like – that wanted Lexa to not be okay. That wanted Lexa to need this – her – as much as Clarke needed Lexa.

**Lexa:** Honestly? I don't know. I'm not freaking out about tomorrow – I think we're ready – but I'm maybe freaking out a little about not freaking out? Is that weird?

Clarke read the message and laughed. 

**Clarke:** Totally weird, weirdo. 

She imagined Lexa smiling. At least she hoped Lexa was smiling. 

**Lexa:** 😋

A pause, and then:

**Lexa:** Meet me in the small lounge?

Clarke hesitated, glanced at the time, gave in. It still wasn't late. If they stayed up for a little while – maybe an hour – they would still get plenty of sleep before tomorrow, especially since it was a home game so they didn't have to get up extra early to travel. 

**Clarke:** Be right there. 

When she got to the lounge, she was surprised to find it empty. Probably everyone who was still up was in the bigger lounge at the end of the hall, where the TV and the little kitchenette was. There was no lock on the door, but most of the time people were good about respecting it if the door was fully closed. Even so, Clarke paused a second before clicking the latch into place, because she didn't know why Lexa had invited her. Surely she wasn't thinking about... Not that they would be the first people to get friendly on these couches... nor would they be the last. Which was kind of exactly why it wasn't high on Clarke's list of colleges experiences she wanted to have. 

Lexa had brought several fleece blankets with her, and they wrapped up in them, curling so close to each other they barely took up half of the little loveseat. Lexa wormed one hand out of its fleecy confines and slipped it into Clarke's cocoon, finding her fingers and lacing them together. "I know we can do it," she said. "I _know_ we can. If we play like we've been playing, we can beat them."

"You don't have to convince me," Clarke said. "I believe you." 

For someone who claimed she wasn't freaking out, Lexa was getting herself rather worked up. Clarke extricated herself from her blanket and draped it over Lexa, pressing even closer than before, offering reassurance with her presence that she didn't know how to put into words. 

She felt Lexa relax against her, and a second later, her head dropped onto Clarke's shoulder. "Thank you," Lexa said, and was quiet for so long Clarke thought she might have drifted off, and if she had... She tried not to think about what the warm feeling in her chest meant. That was something to deal with another day... or never. 

Probably never.

Lexa's voice was soft when she spoke again, barely more than a whisper but loud enough that there was not question as to what she was saying. "You're the best thing that's happened to me this year, too," she said. "You've made this year... grrrrrrreat!"

The bubble of feeling she didn't dare name popped in Clarke's chest, and came out of her mouth as too-loud bark of a laugh. She shoved at Lexa, but they were still tangled together in blankets and they found themselves wrestling, laughing and trying not to fall off the couch. 

"I told you!" Lexa said. "I told you it was coming! You can't say I didn't warn you!" 

Clarke pinned Lexa down, her wrists on either side of her head, Clarke's thighs clamped around her legs, and at the same moment they went absolutely still, eyes wide staring at each other as they realized...

Clarke knew she should let go. She knew she should climb off of Lexa, retreat to neutral corners, reset. But she didn't want to let go. She wanted... impossible things. 

Lexa wiggled her wrists in Clarke's grip and Clarke loosened them so she could pull away. Lexa reached up, tucking Clarke's hair back where it had escaped her braid, and traced a fingertip along her jaw. She bit her lower lip, and Clarke wanted to do the same, and maybe Lexa would have let her. Maybe...

But then what? What would they do? Where would they go? 

Lexa sighed, wrapped her arms around Clarke and pulled her in, pulled her down, and when Clarke tucked her face into the curve of her neck, she sighed again and tightened her grip. "The best thing," she whispered. 

_I know,_ Clarke thought. _I know._

* * *

They won. They pulled together as a team and they won, and they kept winning.

What, at the beginning of the season, had been only a dream was getting closer and closer to becoming a reality, and they were feeling the pressure, but along with it, an overwhelming sense of hope, and joy, which might have been premature but Lexa embraced it, and didn't try to discourage the team from doing the same. 

They took things seriously – every practice, every game – but they tried to walk the fine line between seriously enough and too seriously. And when Coach thought they'd laughed a little too much and decided it was time for some good old-fashioned fitness testing, well... Raven had a solution for that. 

Not that she ever took credit for it. 

Not that anyone could ever prove it.

But they all knew.

Everyone had their own personal ranking when it came to which fitness test was The Worst, but the beep test ranked pretty high on everyone's list. So when Coach announced they would be seeing what progress they'd made over the course of the season, it was to a chorus of muffled (and not so muffled) groans and curses. 

The only person who looked excited was Raven. 

"Everybody line up!" Coach called, and they took their places, waiting for the dreaded drone of the voice announcing the test, bracing themselves for the piercing tone that told them to start jogging to the opposite line 20 meters away at increasingly short intervals. 

At first everything seemed normal, but after a few rounds, the tone of the beep changed. Just a little, just slightly... but enough that it caused a few of them to miss half a step as they wondered if maybe something was wrong with their hearing. The next time it was clearer that something was... off. The beep was less of a beep and more of a... moan? 

Coach heard it. Lexa couldn't spare her a glance as she focused on getting from one line to the other, but she knew Coach heard it, and she could imagine the way her face was contorting as she tried to decide whether to pull the plug on the test or just ignore it. But with each passing beep, the moaning because more distinct, more suggestive, and soon girls were falling out not because they weren't fit enough to get to the line in time, but because they were wheezing with laughter. 

Lexa tried to ignore it. She tried to shut it out because she was a professional, damn it... but then she made the mistake of glancing sideways at exactly the same moment Clarke looked toward her and it was all over. The minute they made eye contact, they couldn't hold it in anymore, and they both started laughing, stumbling to the line just in time. They had been the last ones standing, and Coach finally shut it off.

"If I _ever_ found out who did that..." she growled, but Lexa knew she wouldn't do anything. What could she do? "Just so you know, we'll be doing it again tomorrow, with the _right_ recording. And if any of you develop a mysterious injury between now and then, you'll sit out the next game. Fair warning." 

She dismissed them, and they returned to the locker room as a pack, snickering and nudging each other, with Raven at their center, head high and a wicked gleam in her eye.

Yeah, they all knew. And even though they were going to be subjected to the same torture all over again tomorrow (if Coach was a woman of her word, and they had no reason to believe she wouldn't be) they were too busy laughing to be mad.

* * *

"There should be rules against this," Clarke grumbled, rubbing her arms and hugging herself as the wind gusted straight through her jersey and the insulating shirt she wore underneath. She stomped her feet, trying to keep blood flowing, because there was nothing worse than kicking a ball when your toes were halfway to frostbitten. 

"Isn't there something in your Constitution about 'cruel and unusual punishment'?" Luna asked, clenching her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. 

"It's not punishment," Lexa pointed out. "We signed up for this."

"I need to read my contract more closely next time," Clarke said. "This... is..."

"Sparta?" Lexa filled in, grinning. It might just have been the light – or lack thereof, because there had been some kind of schedule snafu and whoever was in charge of such things claimed they hadn't been advised there was a game that night – but Clarke thought her lips looked ever-so-slightly blue. While they waited for the light situation to get sorted out (because you couldn't play an evening game in November without them) they tried to keep warm, wrapped in jackets and blankets and anything else they could find. 

"I was going to say ridiculous," Clarke said. "It's _freezing_!"

"Incorrect," Luna said. "It is below freezing." She flashed the screen of her phone, which she shouldn't have had on the sidelines, but there were so many things going wrong at this point that that was the least of anyone's worries.

"I didn't need to know that," Clarke said, huddling closer to her teammates, who seemed to be going through the same thought process she was: Would it be warmer to unfurl their arms from around themselves to surround each other? Or would that just make them lose what body heat they'd managed to retain?

Finally, the lights snapped on, and they all let out a cheer. Coach returned, still looking pissed, and had them huddle up to give them a few last-minute instructions. Clarke didn't think anyone heard a word she said; they were all too distracted by being slightly warm-ish for the first time since they'd gotten off the bus.

It was with great reluctance that they broke apart again, taking their places on the field. Clarke glanced over at Lexa, and past her at Luna, then at Roma on her other side, and they all gave each other a little nod. It was the last game of the regular season. They could do this.

By halftime, they were up two goals, but they were also winded and frozen to their cores, and Lexa was limping. Clarke tucked herself under Lexa's arm as they headed for the sideline. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"I don't even know," Lexa said. "My thighs are numb." 

Clarke laughed, even though it wasn't really funny. Wearing shorts in below-freezing weather was no joke, and running up and down the field only did so much to counteract it. Lexa had taken a direct hit to the thigh with a ball that had rocketed off the foot of one of the other team's defenders, and if it hadn't already started to bruise, it was going to be pretty spectacular when her blood started flowing again. "It'll all be over soon," she promised.

"You make it sound like I'm dying," Lexa joked. 

"When we finally start to thaw, we might all wish we were," Clarke said. She picked up her water bottle and took a swig, wincing as the icy water (literally, she was pretty sure ice crystals had started to form while it sat) slid down her esophagus, chilling the only parts of her that were still warm. 

One of the trainers helped them into coats and draped blankets over their legs, and Clarke flashed a grateful smile and tried to focus on what Coach was saying while mentally cursing the fact that their opponent's facilities didn't have a locker room for the visiting team to use. The respite was over far too soon, and she wanted to cry as she shed layers. 

"Is that... snow?" Harper asked, looking up toward the lights. Sure enough, flakes were beginning to drift down. 

" _Gottverdammt!_ " Luna spat. 

No one needed to ask her for a translation. 

Fifteen minutes into the second half they were up another two goals, and it felt like the other team had just given up. Not that Clarke blamed them. The snow was starting to fall more heavily, clinging to the grass and making the ball do whatever the hell it wanted no matter how well you kicked it. She had never been so happy to see her number come up for a substitution in her life, and a second later, Lexa's followed it, then Luna's. In short order, Coach replaced nearly everyone who hadn't been subbed out at halftime. It was the first time she'd ever come close to using all of the subs allowed in a game. 

They were quickly wrapped up again, and offered gloves and hats in addition to sweatpants and jackets and blankets. Clarke could feel herself – and Lexa and Luna – shaking, and her blood felt like ice water running through her veins. When the final whistle blew, they'd won 6-2, but they were too cold to celebrate. Slapping hands with the opposing team was perfunctory (and slightly painful) and all anyone cared about what getting back on the bus. 

"How bad is it?" Clarke asked again when she'd warmed up enough to get words past her chattering teeth. 

"Do you really want to know?" Lexa asked. "Because I'm not sure _I_ want to know." But she stood up and slid her sweatpants down her thighs – earning herself a half-hearted whistle from Anya – to look at the bruise that peered out from under the hem of her shorts... which earned her another whistle. 

"Damn, girl," Anya said. 

Lexa sighed at the hexagonal print clearly embossed in her skin. "That's gonna suck when I can feel it," she said, pulling her sweats back up and settling into her seat. 

Clarke grimaced in sympathy. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, kissing the tips, and brushed them over the bruise as gently as she could, hoping no one saw because it was a ridiculous thing to do, kissing a teammate's bruise to make it better, as if the gesture held the magic they'd – or at least she'd – believed in as a child. 

But maybe it did, just a little, because Lexa cuddled a little closer, her head dropping onto Clarke's shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, so soft even Clarke barely heard. But she felt it, the words going straight from her ear to her heart.

* * *

"Is this real?" Clarke asked, pressing her shoulder into Lexa's as they settled into their seats on the plane. "Is this really happening?"

"It's really happening," Lexa confirmed, although she could hardly believe it herself. They were on their way to California for the NCAA Championships, and even though they had earned it, fought for it every inch of the way, it still felt surreal. In a few hours – or a little more than a few, and Lexa was already ready to be off the plane even though it hadn't left the ground yet – they would be that much closer to achieving what they'd been dreaming of – and working toward – all season. 

Lexa found herself reaching for Clarke's hand as the plane taxied toward the runway, her heart pounding harder in her chest as the engines got louder, revving for takeoff. She glanced to her right and saw Luna looking, and she started to withdraw her fingers from Clarke's grasp, but Luna rolled her eyes.

" _Es ist mir egal,_ " Luna said, and there was a weight to the words that made Lexa think Luna knew more than she was letting on. More than Clarke and Lexa were letting on, even. But Lexa settled back, her fingers firmly laced with Clarke's. 

" _Danke,_ " she said softly. Luna just smiled and took her other hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In American college soccer they are allowed a ridiculous number of substitutions. I can't remember the exact number, but you can definitely replace the entire team, and then some. And yes, I know that some bits of the soccer ball are pentagons, but pentagonal doesn't sound as good as hexagonal so 😋.
> 
> _Es ist mir egal_ = It doesn't matter to me, I don't mind/care


End file.
